The Littlest Longbottom
by littlechivalry
Summary: A potions accident changes the course of Harry's summer, throwing him together with two boys he thought he knew. Kid!fic, impending slash of the H/D variety. Angst and character death. Chapter 27 up, now with lemon. Rating raised.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters, or this world.

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**The Littlest Longbottom**

**Chapter 1**

Advanced Potions and one last project. Snape said that mixed house partners were Dumbledore's idea, but Harry knew better.

It was torture.

Pure, intentional, torture.

There were only a few days left until summer holidays and that last potion was the only thing standing between Harry and sweet freedom. He just had to bite his tongue for a few more days, and then he and Malfoy could go their own way.

"Per the Headmaster's suggestion, on Friday each pairing will tutor a Remedial Potions student on the brew of _my_ choosing…"

Harry let the voice drift over him as he imagined the rest of his life without Malfoy's constant presence. Or at least the next few months.

Broken from the pleasant fantasy by a bony, pointy, ferret elbow, he glared at the blond.

"Hope you're happy, Potter." the boy spat, gathering up his scroll and quill and sweeping out of the room.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

His best female friend's voice came out of nowhere, startling him. Turning towards the bushy-haired girl, he said, "For what, Hermione?"

"You and Malfoy… You're working with Neville, Harry."

Pure, intentional, torture

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**Note**: So there we have it, the first chapter. I started this story sometime last year. I had been reading a lot of kid!fics and I wanted to try something different. There will be slash, and angst, and all of the things you can expect from my work and I hope you enjoy it.

Read, review. And be as polite as you can, even if its bad. I think I broke my toe this morning and it has put me in a rather nasty mood.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters or this world. I'm just playing with them. Dance, monkeys! DANCE!

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**Chapter 2**

_Maybe it won't be so bad_, she said. _Maybe Neville will learn this time_, she said. _He couldn't possibly have gotten worse_, she said.

Hermione's voice danced with Snape's in Harry's head as he waited on one of the hard benches in Pomphrey's anteroom.

"_Mr. Malfoy. Potter. In deference to your charges… ability…, or lack thereof, I have assigned the class a very simple potion. It is a diluted anti-aging draught and if it is prepared correctly, it will cause the subject to grow younger by three years. Mr. Malfoy, I rely on __**you**__ to make sure that everything will be done correctly_."

It would be so easy to blame Malfoy for the debacle that followed, but if Harry was honest with himself, and he had just enough Gryffindor bravery to be so, then he was as much at fault.

"_Just don't touch anything Longbottom. As far as Snape need be concerned, you did everything on this. Watch carefully so you can answer questions and again, don't touch anything."_

_Neville shrank back in his chair, hands tucked under his thighs to prevent even an accidental interference._

_Harry leapt to his friend's defense._

"_You can't just do that Malfoy. He has to participate in this, that's the whole point!"_

"_I really don't mind, Har--"_

"_You don't know what you're talking about Potter. This potion might look simple, but this is Snape. He expects a lot from me and he hates you, so he gave us something a little trickier than he let on. If the timing is a bit off or the measurements--"_

_Waving off Harry's concern with one pink and wrinkle pressed hand, Neville said, "I'm fine just sitting here, rea--"_

"_You're so full of yourself, Malfoy. You think you know everything."_

"_Maybe I don't know everything, Potter. But I do know potions--"_

_Neville tried to interrupt the bickering duo, "About that, I think there might be something wrong with the po-"_

"_Fine! You know potions, but you're still a bastard."_

"_You're one to talk, you bigoted little shit!"_

"_I'm a bigot? Who are you with the 'mudblood' cracks?"_

"_Guys! The potio--"_

"_So, fine, I hate mudbloods. Give me one reason I shouldn't and maybe I'll reconsider. You hate purebloods, why is that?"_

"_People like you, Malfoy. I only hate people like you."_

Harry remembered that their voices had risen until that last sentence was shouted through the suddenly quiet Potions class. Was it suddenly quiet, or had it been quiet all along, the other students waiting for the inevitable fight?

_Neville spoke in the stillness, "There's something wrong with the potion."_

_Harry could feel his face now, redder and hotter than it had ever felt before. He looked over at the blond Slytherin, expecting the jeering sneer he was so familiar with, but the other boy was still and quiet. _

_Harry turned away, staring into the thick liquid, and waited for Malfoy to judge the potion, express his expertise, and let them get on with their work, but Draco didn't say anything, didn't do anything but look down at the desk. So Harry consulted their notes. _

_The potion was supposed to be leaf green and bubbling softly. The color was green, the deep green of summer leaves, not the light yellow-green of spring foliage, and the bubbles were perhaps a bit stronger than they should be, but on the whole it looked right._

"_I think its fine, Neville. Apparently Malfoy thinks he's too good to help us, so we'll go on by ourselves and he can explain his lack of participation to Snape."_

_Neville watched as Harry filled a small vial with the green potion. Taking it with an only slightly trembling hand, he said, "I'm not sure about this, Harry."_

But he took it, and drank it…

And nothing happened.

Harry didn't have to look to see the smug expression on his Potion Master's face, as the room slowly filled with thirteen-year-olds that had made their potions correctly and regular old fifteen-year-old Neville just got paler and paler in his seat.

Looking up to catch the smirk on Malfoy's face, instead he saw the blonde's eyes get wider and wider, his mouth opening to say something.

Then Neville threw up.

On Harry.

Pure, unadulterated, torture.

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**Note: **So the gist is that Snape, under Dumbledore's guidance, has assigned all of the Advanced students in pairs to tutor the Remedial Potions students. So Draco and Harry have been teamed up to teach Neville. Will this go badly? Oh. Hell. Yeah.

I always appreciate reviews, so go on and do it. You know you want to.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I do not own this world. I made this story up out of whole cloth and I am learning to love cliff-hangers.

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_When last we saw our intrepid heroes Neville was casting up his accounts, Harry was doused, and Draco was ignoring them both._

**Chapter 3**

And it would have been over then, disgusting, but over if Neville, after almost an hour of Harry's ranting when they returned to their dorm, hadn't decided to redeem himself by making the potion by himself.

_It isn't as if I were even yelling at **him**_, Harry thought. _It's all that damn Ferret's fault for not stopping us the first time._

Logically, Harry knew Draco hadn't even been in the room when the real fight happened, but something about the Slytherin boy screamed out to be at fault.

Now screams of a different kind filled the air, after Neville's second attempt with the de-aging potion. Pomfrey said that neither dose had been made correctly, but drinking two had increased the toxicity levels in Neville's blood to the point that no could predict the affect, even whether the boy might be de-aged past the point of his own existence.

All Harry knew was that it was Malfoy's fault.

It had to be.

_Speak of the devil, and the devil appears._

"Potter."

"Malfoy."

After that moment of sparkling repartee, Draco joined Harry on the wooden bench. After a few seconds, the blond boy spoke, "Will he be okay?"

"They don't know yet."

Another quiet period, feeling longer than it probably was, and Harry voiced a question. "What are you doing here?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes, Malfoy, you do. You don't like Neville, you hate me, and you could care less what happens to either of us, so why are you here?"

"It was part my fault, Potter. And as much as I hate you, I have nothing against Longbottom."

Stunned into silence, Harry could only nod.

"He's a pure-blood after all."

_And there's The Bastard Malfoy we all love to hate, ladies and germs_.

Both boys lapsed into silence after that. There wasn't really much to say.

A crash from inside the infirmary brought them both to their feet, mouths agape, as they watched Madame Pomfrey flee the room, more disheveled than either had ever seen her. Her composure was legend around Hogwarts, where anything could, and usually did, occur.

Unable to restrain their curiosity, the boys went into the white room where both of them had spent far too much time.

What they found shocked them.

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**Note: **I have to admit, this is one of my older stories and because it was on a disk I don't use often it sat gathering dust for quite a while. Well, a few weeks ago I resurrected the darn thing and here we are. As per my usual practice I have this written more than a few chapters ahead, so even though I have hit a bit of a slump at the moment, the slump is occurring at around chapter 15.

Please review, because I do want to hear what you think, good or bad. Though, if the choice is up to me I vote good reviews only, with lots of lovely detail.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. I do not own this world. I do not own a car. I do not own a pony.

I would really like a pony.

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**Chapter 4**

Neville Longbottom at 15 was a regular boy, average in all respects, brown hair and eyes, grown into his height if not his teeth, and still with the round and open face of youth.

Even-tempered and restful, he was arbiter of all intra-Gryffindor fights, now that he'd gotten past his lack of confidence. Quiet and unassuming, he could wait with perfect patience until the exact moment that he was needed, and intercede in just such a fashion that everything was settled, and no one was upset.

He was becoming a good man.

The boy Harry and Draco found in the infirmary was not that boy.

"Oy! You poncey bastards, where did the cow go?"

It wasn't what either boy had been expecting to hear from the tiny, adorable, six-year old.

"Are you deaf? Where did the cow go? I want to go home," the boy screamed, throwing a tray of potions vials at the wall.

This was the cause of the crash they'd heard earlier.

"Neville?"

"Longbottom?"

The boys traded a look, having spoken at the same time, but the child in front of them didn't notice. In fact, he acted as though he hadn't heard them at all, and proceeded to tear the infirmary apart.

Harry rushed to hold him still as Neville got to the large potions cupboard, but the boy struggled fiercely, and it was all Harry could do to hold him at all. "Little help, Malfoy?"

The Slytherin considered his rival, smiling slightly as Harry dodged a particularly violent swing at his head.

"Seems as though you have things under control, Potter. I'll just be off then." He turned to leave, but was blocked by the professors coming into the room.

Pomphrey had restored her equanimity, but the slight flush in her cheeks suggested she'd had a bit of something more bracing than a lemon drop on her way to get help. Dumbledore followed just behind her, twinkling eyes only slightly dimmed at the sight of the screaming, struggling child. Snape and McGonagall brought up the rear, with their most stoic expressions in place; as though they were ready to face the wars, which, Harry realized, dodging another small but surprisingly strong fist, they might be.

Then Neville caught what Harry would later insist was a lucky shot and the world went black.

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**Note: **So, as you can see, the 'kid' in this fic is neither Harry nor Draco. I hope this is a fresh twist for all of you, and I hope that you will continue to read even if the little Neville is different from your expectations. I am having a great deal of fun with this story, and the idea of Neville as a tiny terror just tickles me.

Please review. I've been cleaning all day and my back hurts. I will be cleaning for the next week, so if you want to review and make me feel better, you have time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world and this story is completely made up.

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**Chapter 5**

Harry drifted into consciousness to the sound of Malfoy's voice, but he kept his eyes closed. He'd found that eavesdropping was probably the most effective way to learn anything despite what Hermione was always saying.

"So this is the real Longbottom?"

"Well, yes and no, Mister Malfoy. Apparently Mister Longbottom had a bit of a temper problem when he was a child," Pomphrey replied.

"Temper problem? The little bastard is possessed! He bit me!"

"Well, you should have kept your arm out of his reach then. Now help me wake Mister Potter."

Harry, smothering the laughter he'd been fighting in a series of fake coughs, sat up in one of his favorite infirmary beds, the one closest the window.

"How long have you been awake, Potter?"

"Long enough," he replied to the Slytherin. Turning his attention to the nurse, he said, "So this **is** the real Neville?"

Ignoring Draco's muttered, "I already asked her that," in the background, Harry waited for an answer.

"As I told Mister Malfoy, he both is and isn't the Neville you are used to."

Harry could feel Draco's smug face behind him.

"Mister Longbottom went through an angry phase in his childhood, from the age of four until he

was almost seven. The summer before his seventh birthday he grew very quiet, and by the time his birthday came, he was the calm and well-behaved boy we all know today. His Grandmother brought him to Hogwarts when he was five, around the time he first began exhibiting this behavior. The Medi-Witch at the time believed it was just a delayed reaction to the loss of his parents and cautioned her that he would grow out of it. As, it seems, he did."

A banshee howl began at the end of the row of cots.

Gathering his robes tidily around him, Malfoy rose to his feet from the chair he'd been waiting in. "Well, as fascinating as Longbottom's mental trauma is, I really need to finish my classwork this evening."

Harry watched the blond leave, then took note of a familiar glint in the Headmaster's eye, and braced himself for the worst as the man spoke, "Wait just a moment, Mr. Malfoy. I have a proposition for yourself and Mr. Potter."

As Draco paused in the doorway, Harry could see the battle between obeying the man and just leaving, before the boy turned back and returned to his seat.

Draco sat, and stared at the Headmaster, waiting.

"We will need someone to care for young Neville—"

Harry could see where this was going already, "Now wait just a minute! Why do I have to—." He broke off as Dumbledore's surprisingly steely glare met his. Looking over to Malfoy for support, he saw the Slytherin was silent, waiting to hear what would happen, so he gave up, muttering, "You're going to make us do it, aren't you?"

Smiling again, Dumbledore said, "Now, now. This is a wonderful opportunity."

Harry heard Malfoy snort and silently agreed with the other boy.

Dumbledore dithered for a few moments before Malfoy interrupted him, "Just spit it out, Headmaster. Will we have some sort of split-custody arrangement, as the Muggles do?"

Harry started at hearing anything other than an insult about Muggles from the Slytherin's mouth, much less a piece of actual, factual information.

Dumbledore looked surprised as well, before covering it with a merry laugh, "No wonder you're head of your class in Muggle Studies, Mr. Malfoy. But no, we feel it would not be in Mr. Longbottom's best interest to live in either Slytherin or Griffindor dorms at this time. The dorms were not designed with small children in mind. Luckily we have family quarters for our professors with spouses and children, and there is an unused suite."

Harry, shuddering at the thought of any of their current professors married, much less doing any of the 'activities' that might lead up to children, looked through his fringe at Malfoy to see the other boy looking sick, probably for a similar reason.

The blond met his eye, and they shared a twisted smile at the path their thoughts had taken, before turning their attention back to the Headmaster.

"I realize it is a great deal to ask of you boys to care for a small child. So, in exchange for your cooperation, think of this as a project. You will both need to stay here for the summer as it will take several months to study the effects of the potion and how to reverse it safely, so in exchange for your assistance, Mr. Potter will receive an 'E' on his potions OWL."

"And for myself, sir? I certainly don't need any help with potions."

Harry sneered at Malfoy's insinuating tone. As if the git needed any help with his head half stuck up Snape's ars—

"You, Mr. Malfoy, will receive an automatic E in Transfiguration, as I am to understand you have difficulty with that subject."

Malfoy grimaced as Harry shared a look with McGonagall.

A shrill voice sounded from the far corner, "I'm not going anywhere with those bastards! I want to go home."

Dumbledore twinkled again, "Perhaps it is time we untied young Mr. Longbottom and brought you three to your new home."

Harry and Draco spoke simultaneously, "Untied?"

Madame Pomphrey tinted light pink as she led the group to the last bed where a very small, very angry boy lay tethered to an iron bed frame by one thin wrist.

Harry saw Draco pale dramatically from the corner of his eye, a true accomplishment for the already chalky blond. Then one of the Slytherin's thin white hands reached for the rope, the other holding a small knife, and gently severed the bonds,

Draco rubbed his thumb lightly over the angry red lines on Neville's wrist before closing the knife with a snap and depositing it in his robe pocket.

No one moved during this brief performance, even Neville just stared. Harry wasn't sure what surprised him the most; that Draco carried a knife, or that he had been gentle with it. The idea of the Slytherin with an open blade in his hands didn't seem like the most positive image and yet the boy had done no harm.

Behind them, Madame Pomphrey babbled, "I didn't want to tie the poor dear down, but he was so upset and he wouldn't keep still, and I certainly couldn't drug the little mite, but I couldn't have him biting all and sundry and he very nearly caved your head in Harry, and—"

Snape cleared his throat "If we are all ready? The quarters are prepared and the house elves should be done moving your personal possessions."

Neville stood quietly, staring at Draco with something like awe in his eyes. Harry felt almost the same way, only it wasn't so much awe as a sense of shock, and the little group proceeded silently in their professor's wake leaving the Headmaster and the two women behind them.

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**Note: **Muggle Studies and a pocketknife, eh? Well, why not? So you can see we're verging into the standard 'Harry and Draco are forced to share a room' plot. Expect a little of what you're used to and hope that I can bring something a bit original to the table. I have to go to a picnic tomorrow and due to my general dislike of the outdoors I will be bringing my laptop along for company. If things go well there should be new chapters of my other stories up tomorrow night.

As always, read and review.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters, but I am having an awful lot of fun playing with them.

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**Chapter 6**

At the end of a fairly nondescript hallway, a large painting of a landscape covered the entrance to their quarters. Snape explained that, as the rooms were for professors, the security was higher and the door had to be keyed to the owners, and, in this case Headmaster Dumbledore and Professors McGonagall and Snape. And, because 'boys will be boys' Madame Pomphrey.

The 'boys' in question rolled their eyes at that, Neville doing so from his location directly behind Draco. Harry felt strange about a fellow Gryffindor hiding behind a Slytherin, but his head still ached from his last interaction with the little boy so didn't complain.

Snape opened the door and waved the trio into the room. After providing a tour that mostly consisted of pointing at a few of the doors that led off from the larger living room and tersely describing their purpose, the professor swept from the room, leaving the three boys to their own devices.

Harry opened each of the other doors until he saw his trunk set at the foot of a solid dark wooden bed. The room was draped in shades of soft leaf green, and a small window looked out onto the lake where he could see the Giant Squid making small ripples in the bright water.

After stowing his things, Harry went back into the living room to find Neville sitting on an over-stuffed couch idly kicking his heels into the cushions. Draco was nowhere in sight, but there was an open door Harry hadn't checked that probably led to the Slytherin blond's room.

Sitting awkwardly on the couch as far from the smaller boy as he could get Harry cleared his throat a few times before speaking, "So, do you know which room's yours?"

Neville didn't answer, just kicked harder at the couch. Harry felt the tremors travel through the rickety frame and up through his legs and bum. He tried again.

"Are your wrists alright? I know some healing cha—"

His quick Seeker's reflexes acting before he had the chance to think, Harry snatched his hand back only centimeters from Neville's sharp white teeth. He'd been reaching for the boy's when the little bugger attacked.

When Harry moved away, Neville jumped up and ran through Draco's open door, slamming it behind him.

Behind it, Harry could hear shouting, the higher voice of the child and Draco's gentle tenor, soft even in anger. A great change from his rather high-pitched tones of the past and another thing Harry wanted to know more about. Moving closer to the door, Harry tried to make out what they were saying.

"… tried to touch me…"

"…sure he was just trying to help…"

"…don't know him…"

"…Gryffindor… what they do…"

"…never be one…"

And then the two boys laughed. It wasn't a mean laugh, just a friendly one, but Harry felt cold being outside of it. It was very strange to hear other people laughing and happy and to not know why. After the way he grew up, he thought he'd gotten used to it, but it still… itched. He could feel their laughter, their joy on the outside of his skin, but he forced himself away from the door and back to the couch.

After a few minutes, the boys walked out of the room, Neville with a white bandage wrapped neatly around his wrist, and Draco hiding a smile as he gently pushed the child forward.

Rubbing his bandaged wrist, Neville stared hard at the ground and spoke. "I'm sorry I was rude. You were just trying to help." The boy smiled and looked up, meeting Harry's eyes. "Draco says you're a Gryffindor, and that's just what they do."

Now fighting his own grin, Harry replied, "What **we** do, Nevs. You're a Gryffindor yourself."

The boy's jaw dropped and he turned to stare accusingly at Draco who burst out laughing.

And this time, Harry joined in.

And eventually Neville, though the child had a strange gleam in his eye.

This should have been a sign.

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**Note: **So, here we have another chapter. As to Draco's pocket knife and prowess in Muggle studies… Well, you'll just have to have a little faith in me. Eventually everything is explained.

So, as per usual, read and review.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I say this every time so if anyone reading is under the impression that I actually own anything Harry Potter-related beyond copies of the books and movies then they are clearly not reading thoroughly enough.

Then again, in all honesty, who reads the disclaimers? Clearly we know none of us own the material we're writing about. If we did we would be rolling in money, rather than writing stories where canon heterosexual characters turn gay and fall in love with one another for free.

It's the 'for free' part that always gets me. If there were any way I could paid, legally and ethically, for writing these stories, I would be all over it like white on rice. Believe it!

Sorry, that went on too long. Blah, blah, blah, don't own nothin'.

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**Chapter 7**

The next few days were quiet. Too quiet. Harry and Draco spent most of their time trying to get settled in their new quarters, ignoring each other, and finishing up any last minute classwork before school was officially over for the year. On their last day of freedom before becoming temporary guardians, Harry went down to the Great Hall to bid his friends farewell. Ron and Hermione promised to visit at least once each and owl as often as they could. Harry couldn't help but notice that Malfoy did not get the same offers.

In fact, most of the blond Slytherin's friends seemed sad as they said their good-byes. Harry even swore he had seen Blaise Zabini, surprisingly one of the meanest Slytherin's despite her petite size and deceptively adorable looks, tearing up.

During this time, Neville was quiet and well behaved under the supervision of a roster of House Elves. He showed none of the behavior the boys had seen in him during that first day in the infirmary. They kept track of him, his meals and bed times, but the last few days of school brought a whirlwind of activity and often, the small boy was forgotten.

As far as the rest of the students were concerned, Neville had left school early to visit his grandmother, so the boy had to stay out of sight, spending most of his time alone in the trio's quarters reading or watching a small muggle telly Dumbledore had charmed to play cartoons.

Still, he was obliging, pleasant and polite when school was finally over and his caregivers returned to their new home to stay.

For about a day.

The next morning, Harry was awoken by a vase smashing into the wall over his head. He was able to dodge the largest chunks of the shattered ceramic, but the little shards scratched at his arms and back.

In the main room he heard Draco and Neville screaming about something he couldn't quite make out and allowed himself one small smirk. Brushing off the clay dust as best he could, he wrapped a thick bathrobe around himself and ventured into the fray.

He didn't see the next vase that came at him and the world turned black in an instant.

When he awoke, his head felt much larger and on it was a cool cloth, held in place by a cool hand.

"You do realize if you hadn't charmed the doors away this might not have happened, don't you," a sardonic voice asked. Draco.

"I don't remember you arguing at the time," Harry replied softly, so as not to crack his head any further. It was true. The boys had agreed in one of the rare moments they acknowledged the other existed that it would be best to keep the rooms open.

Privacy could be had in the bathroom, which had kept its door, and both Draco and Harry would be able to keep an eye on Neville all the time.

"Yes, well," the blond Slytherin harrumphed. "My next question is; why are you so bloody easy to knock out? If I'd known I would have been setting small children on you this entire time."

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but gave up. He really didn't have an argument and Draco's hand felt so nice on his head…

A small voice brought him back to wakefulness and the hand slipped away.

"Did I kill him?'

Draco replied, "No love. But you hurt him very badly."

"Oh," the little boy sounded disappointed, and then a thread of hope entered his voice, "Will he die eventually?"

Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn't sure why Neville had developed such a strong tie to Malfoy, but now was as good a time as any to start moving the boy back to the Griffindor way of thinking.

"I could hit him harder next time?"

It just might take a little Slytherin cunning.

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**Note: **Neville is a bloodthirsty little bastard, isn't he? I have my reasons for this, but I'm not going to explain them in a note because then what would be the point of reading the story? Answer me that. Also, is it wrong that I kind of love the image of tiny, angry, six-year-old Neville knocking Harry out? Because if that's wrong, I don't want to be right.

Please review, tell me what you think. I have to go edit the next chapters of MY ANGEL and BLIND SIGHT now. A new chapter of BLIND SIGHT, you say? Why yes, yes it is.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I make no money from this.

But that would be swell.

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**Chapter 8 **_(same day as chapter 7)_

After a quick trip to Madame Pomphrey to ensure there was no brain damage, Harry began his quest to get Neville away from Malfoy and back to the safety of Griffindor.

The boy seemed enamored of the Slytherin's tough image. Ever since the blond had pulled a knife out of his pocket in the infirmary Neville had followed him around like a puppy. Even in those hectic days when both Draco and Harry used their quarters more as a waystation than a home Harry had noticed the little boy following Draco with his eyes and grinning whenever the blond got snappish or insulting. He'd even seen Neville trying to copy Malfoy's scornful arched-eyebrow-and-smirk expression.

If the boy was ten years older and gay Harry might think he had a crush. As it was Neville showed every sign of a very disturbing case of hero-worship.

Harry would have to find something fascinating and dangerous of his own to capture Neville's interest and he knew just the thing. Since the six year old Neville seemed bolder than his fifteen year old counterpart, Harry thought he might try flying with the boy.

Neville the older hated flying. Ever since their first lesson, when Malfoy stole the Remember-All his grandmother gave him and pitched it out into the blue, the boy steadfastly refused to even go near a broom. Harry didn't know what happened after he jetted across the sky searching for it, but Neville usually retreated to the greenhouses whenever the subject of flying came up.

Harry fetched two school brooms from the storage shed by the Quidditch pitch, one designed with extra safety features for the younger children and those scared of heights, the other a standard class model. He brought them to their quarters where he found Neville right where he expected to, slumped on the couch with a bowl of crisps balanced on his stomach as he and Draco watched telly.

"Come on, Nevs, you've been cooped up long enough. Let's go flying."

Harry waited, gritting his teeth, as Neville first turned to Draco for approval, and after the blonde's slight nod, agreed.

Harry had only gotten two brooms intentionally, so he shrugged apologetically at the Slytherin boy and led Neville back out of the castle and onto the Quidditch pitch.

It was a beautiful day outside, the sun was shining bright, but there was still a faint shimmer of dew on the grass. Harry walked along, leading Neville who struggled a bit carrying the ungainly broom.

"Come on, Nevs. We're almost there."

He saw the little boy behind him grunt and hoist the broom higher in his grip so the tattered bristles wouldn't brush the ground.

When they reached the center of the pitch, Harry stopped sharp, stumbling when Neville walked into him.

Righting himself again, he took a deep breath of the warm air and turned to the boy, smiling broadly. The focus of his plan was to turn the boy Griffindor again, but he couldn't deny his love of flying, and the joy it gave him teaching someone else to love it too.

"Now then Neville, lay the broom down on the grass next to you. Hold your dominant hand over it and say, 'Up.'"

The boy did as he was told, and the broom jumped into his hand like an excited puppy. Harry guided him into straddling the broom and held it steady a few feet off of the ground so Neville could find his seat and figure out balancing. After a few minutes practice, the boy had finally managed to mount his broom and the two took a lap around the pitch, flying only a few feet off the ground.

Harry and Neville spent hours on the pitch, even tossing around a soft 'Safety Quaffle,' and Harry was surprised how much fun he had. It had been a long time since he last went flying just because he enjoyed it, and Neville was pretty good. They only employed the cushioning charm once when the boy copied one of Harry's moves and swung himself upside down on his broom mid-flight.

And Neville as a boy was surprisingly funny. A little more acerbic than Harry would like, which he blamed on Draco's influence, but funny nonetheless.

As the afternoon faded into twilight, Harry dropped the brooms off at the storage shed and walked back to their quarters with Neville trudging sleepily at his side. The closer they got to the door, the more the child drooped, until he was leaning heavily against Harry's legs while the green-eyed boy tried to get the door open.

Unable to move away with Neville falling over, but not feeling right picking the boy up, Harry pounded heavily on the wooden frame.

Eventually, the door opened. Malfoy's hair was mussed, and his heavy-lidded eyes told Harry the Slytherin had either been taking a long mid-afternoon nap or enjoying a vigorous shag. Draco yawned loudly, then without a word bent and picked Neville up, tucking the boy on his hip and going back into the room, letting Harry trail behind.

Malfoy set Neville down on the couch, shifting the cushions and tucking a small blanket over him, then sat on the floor next to him, leaning against the soft piece of furniture. As Harry watched both boys succumb to sleep, he decided to follow their example. So he made his way to his room, now clear of any ceramic dust, and collapsed on the bed.

As he drifted off to sleep, one thing ghosted through his thoughts, an image of Malfoy with 'just been shagged' hair.

A few hours later, Harry's sleep was broken by voices. Keeping his eyes closed, he listened to the conversation, smiling slightly when he heard his name.

"…Harry did this amazing trick…"

"So you had fun then?"

The clatter of heavy plates against the wooden table covered whatever was said next.

"'m glad to hear it. You needed the fresh air."

Neville's voice piped up in reply, "You should come next time."

A brief pause followed, then, "No, you and Harry have fun. I don't… I don't like flying."

Harry's eyes popped open in surprise. If that was true, the Slytherin was a hell of an actor, and if it was false, then he was lying to Neville, but why? Harry resolved to watch Malfoy even closer, now that they were stuck living together. If the boy was up to something, Harry wanted to know in time to get Neville out of there.

When he walked into the main room he saw Neville laying out three place settings and Malfoy discussing the menu with one of the castle's house elves.

"What's the matter," Harry asked, "you can't cook?". He knew he sounded a bit rude, but it was only partially intentional.

The Slytherin looked at him and quirked an eyebrow, "You'd trust me not to poison you?"

Harry laughed softly, and offered in a sleep-husked voice, "We could share a plate."

The Slytherin boy blushed light pink, muttered something about the bathroom and scurried away to the only room left in their quarters that still had a door.

Harry yawned, rubbing his eyes fiercely; then caught Neville staring at him.

"What?"

The little boy said nothing for a moment, then, "Do you like him?"

Harry choked on his own saliva, "What?"

"You stare at him a lo—Never mind."

Confused, Harry yawned again, and then took his seat at the small table.

A few minutes later Draco reappeared, all traces of a blush gone from his features, and the three sat down and waited for their dinner to appear.

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**Note: **And the plot thickens.

Sorry for the delay in update. I edit my stories on my work computer during the week and Friday was so busy I completely forgot to send them to my laptop. I love you guys, and I love writing, and I love posting these stories and getting your reviews, but I was half dead from migraine and exhaustion and by the time I remembered the new chapters I was half way home and not in the best frame of mind to turn around.

So please read and review and tell me what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I'm not making any money, and in fact since this is the end of the month and the bills are due and there was a library book sale today, I have less money than I usually do. C'est la vie, right?

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**Chapter 9**

Most mornings, Harry and Neville would wake up early and go flying, coming back to the small apartment as twilight dimmed the sky. Draco never came with them, even though Harry had unbent enough to ask a few times.

When they got back in the evening, Draco would be reading, or sleeping, or staring at the telly. He didn't talk much, or seem to do much in general during the day. In all honesty, Harry wasn't sure if Draco ever left their small quarters at all.

The three were only together for any period of time in the evenings, when they sat at their battered table and shared dinner. Afterwards Draco and Neville shared the couch while Neville recited everything he had learned and seen through the day and Draco would smile indulgently. That would encourage the little boy to go even further, pushing Harry into teaching him more tricks when they flew.

Harry had originally intended his plan to draw Neville's attention away from Draco but it was to be a complete failure and that was cemented the day Harry caught the little boy practicing in a mirror. He hadn't quite got the hang of arching only one eye brow yet, but it looked as though he wasn't going to give up.

One day as they were circling the pitch, idly floating on a warm updraft, Harry asked Neville exactly what was so fascinating about the blond Slytherin.

The little boy snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry before replying. "He's cool."

Cool.

Apparently Draco Malfoy was cool.

With that bit of news Harry began watching the blond Slytherin closer himself. He still hadn't figured out the whole no-flying, Muggle Studies-loving, pocketknife-carrying thing, and he was beginning to feel that was only the surface of the mystery that Draco Malfoy was rapidly becoming. He did notice that Draco looked quite handsome when he smiled or laughed, and that his face had grown softer over the years. And that the other boy was slim, almost too thin, but muscle wrapped the lithe frame, and just an inch shorter than Harry. He also noticed that on occasion while he was observing Draco he began to feel uncomfortable in a way only Cho Chang had ever made him feel before.

After that he tried to stop watching him so closely.

The pattern of flying all day and playing house in the evenings went on for two weeks, with no change in routine until one day Harry and Neville got back to their rooms and found Madame Pomphrey and Snape leaving.

Neville ran up first, "What happened? Did he get sick again?"

Harry followed behind, making a mental note of the word 'again.'

Smiling slightly, Pomphrey reached down to hug Neville. Harry gritted his teeth, worried for the nurse's safety, and then sighed with relief that the little boy allowed it.

Standing again, the medi-witch said, "He's fine, it was just time for his check up. But you boys need to make sure he eats enough. And gets enough rest. His condition is stable and I'd like to keep it that way for as long as possible."

Neville nodded firmly, and Snape sneered at Harry before following Pomphrey down the hall.

Harry and Neville walked through the entryway and Neville rushed straight to Draco's bedroom to find the blond while Harry collapsed on the couch.

"He's sick?" Harry spoke to himself, but he wasn't surprised to hear a drawling voice answer him as the Slytherin walked out of their bathroom.

"Not really 'sick' per se. Just unwell."

Harry turned and faced the blond. Draco was pale and thin, but then again he'd always been pale and thin. He didn't really look any different, just very tired.

Smiling at Harry's raking gaze, Draco said, "Buck up Potter. You've been wanting me dead for years. This might do the trick."

Harry wanted to ask for details, to know what was going on, but he bit his tongue as Neville came running out of the bedroom and threw himself, weeping, at Draco's legs. Draco gingerly untangled him and led the little boy to the couch, sitting, and pulling Neville up on his lap.

Wrapping his arms around Draco's neck, Neville buried his face in the older boy's shoulder and sobbed. Harry met Draco's eyes over Neville's heaving back and they shared a look combining commiseration and confusion.

Draco switched the telly to a chat show, and Harry lost himself in other people's problems, while the Slytherin rubbed Neville's back carefully and whispered in his ear.

Eventually, Neville stopped crying, and fell asleep. Harry took the boneless weight from Draco and deposited Neville on his bed, pulling the blankets up carefully.

Stretching, Harry walked back out into the main room, only to see Draco headed for his own bedroom.

"Stop right there."

And so Draco did.

"What the hell is going on?"

Draco turned and, letting out a put-upon sigh, returned to the couch.

"Sit down Potter."

Harry rarely did as he was told, even when it was in his best interest and he knew it, but this time he obeyed, settling on the very edge of the couch, his hands folded in his lap.

"So. I'm sick," Draco said flatly.

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, he really did, but he stopped himself and waited for Draco to continue, making and keeping eye contact.

The light pink blush returned to Draco's cheeks, and his gaze flickered away to the corners of the room. After a few minutes he had the blush under control and turned back to Harry, his grey eyes dark and serious.

"How much do you know about Pureblood families, Potter?"

"Not a lot."

Draco smiled, "I would venture to guess that 'not a lot' equals nothing. Well, there are a few things distinct to some families, some Dark families—"

Harry cut in, "Are you talking about inbreeding, Malfoy?"

For a second Draco looked at him in shock, before he burst out laughing. His eyes were bright and tear filled, and the pale blush on his cheeks came back and darkened to a tomato red. Harry was surprised to see it and found it adorable, even if the blond tended to snort.

"No, no, Merlin no. I can't believe you said that. Inbreeding, really." Wiping at his streaming eyes, Draco giggled for a few more minutes before managing to catch his breath.

The frivolity of the previous moment dropped away as a shadow fell across Draco's face and his eyes seemed to see past the room they were in to some distant place.

"No, I almost wish it was something like that, some genetic abnormality that could be treated and finished. Unfortunately, this is much more serious. Many of the pure bloods who followed Voldemort valued loyalty, but did not expect it, and so a spell was created to bind their spouses and children to the Dark Lord and his needs. For the most part this was done with the families' consent, as they were believers as well."

Draco took a shuddering breath, "Once the Dark Lord came back in our fourth year, many of those families were worried that their children who had been too young for the original casting or weren't born yet might be turned from their true Master, so they tied them into the spell. The children had to spend a certain amount of time with their families each year, or they would sicken and die."

Harry listened and absorbed the information before speaking, "But Malfoy, you're here. Your parents didn't cast the spell."

Draco smiled sadly, "Oh no, Lucius Malfoy is nothing if not faithful to his Master, like any good dog should be. I was actually the first child spelled this way, when I was eight years old and everyone but the truest of true believers thought the Dark Lord dead and buried."

Confused, Harry asked, "So how can you be here? If this spell works the way it says, you must be dyi…"

Harry swallowed the rest of his words, but it wasn't fast enough. Draco nodded slowly. "I am dying. Very slowly. After all, why create a spell to ensure loyalty if you cannot punish betrayal."

Standing quickly, Harry turned to the door, "We have to tell Dumbledore, Snape. They can do something. You need to go home."

Draco grabbed his sleeve, dragging him back to the sofa. Harry let himself be guided, he didn't want Draco to over exert himself.

"Harry, they know, and it wouldn't matter anyway. My family isn't at the Manor anymore. They left four months ago, after I told them I had no intention of joining the Dark Lord, living or dead. I imagine they're in France right now. Or hiding in whatever rat infested basement the Dark Lord has decided to call 'home' this week. I don't know, and I don't care."

Harry stared at the Slytherin, "But, if you don't find them, you'll die. You have to care about that, it's your life."

"And where is that written that I have to care about my life," Draco asked, arching his eyebrow. "Even when I was a miniature version of my father, spouting his rhetoric and cursing Mudbloods and house elves, I knew I wouldn't live long. I was just under the impression that I would die in glorious battle for the pride of my family. Well, now I know better. I will die quietly, here in Hogwarts. My bones will rest on school grounds, and my ghost will walk these halls." Draco smiled. "There are worse ways to end up. Just ask your nearly headless mascot."

With that Draco rose, and walked to his room, not looking back.

Harry sat there throughout the night, staring into the shadows and thinking deep thoughts.

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**Note: **And the plot thickens even more. Remember that 'possible character death' in the summary? Well here we are. Lots of drama and angst and what-not from here on out. There will still be humor and the playfulness of the first few chapters, but I won't lie, things are going to get heavy.

Please review and tell me what you think.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters. And don't that just break your heart.

(_12345_)

**Chapter 10**

The next morning dawned like any other. Draco didn't say anything about being sick, and though Harry watched him closely he didn't see anything unusual in the Slytherin's behavior.

Neville, in the manner of all small children, had forgotten his upset of the previous night and insisted on going flying. For the first time all summer Harry wanted to stay behind, keep Draco company, but he gave in to the tiny tyrant and they went off to the Quidditch pitch.

Pleading a head ache, Harry persuaded Neville to give up flying earlier than usual that day and they both headed for their quarters.

The door swung open on the sight of Draco on the floor in a pool of water, a towel wrapped around his waist. Neville lunged forward, but Harry grabbed the corner of his cloak and stopped him before he could fall on the Slytherin blond.

"Draco," Harry said, but the boy didn't move. A pink flush flooded his cheeks, but his face was slack with sleep and other than the blush he was deathly pale.

"Draco," Harry said again, louder. Her moved forward slowly and nudged Draco's shoulder, but still the boy didn't respond. Harry shook him a bit firmer, then again and harder, but still the boy just lay there.

Neville crept forward and set his hand on Draco's forehead. Turning to Harry he said in a serious voice, "I think he's more sick. His head is hot. Gran says that isn't good."

Harry nodded in agreement. "It isn't good. Why don't you call Madame Pomphrey while I try to make Draco more comfortable."

Happy with a job to do the little boy went to the fireplace where he began screaming into the grate, "Get in here. Draco is sick. Come here."

The fireplace was connected directly to the Infirmary, so Harry knew Pom would be there in a matter of minutes. In the meantime he carefully lifted the blond boy from the floor, making sure the towel was secure. The boy was lighter than Harry expected, but if he was as sick as he said then it probably made sense. Still, Harry made a mental note to make sure Draco was eating from now on.

Settling the unconscious form on the couch, Harry started as a brightly colored blanket from Neville's room was flung over the blond. Turning he saw Neville standing next to him with a determined expression on his face.

Harry tried to comfort the visibly upset boy, "I'm sure he will be fine. This is just a –"

Neville shot Harry a dirty look and Harry shut his mouth, laying his hand on the boy's shoulder and rubbing it in little comforting circles as they watched the Slytherin struggle for breath and waited for Pomphrey.

Snape pushed through the door in a cloud of black robes and Pomphrey bustled in behind him. Harry pulled Neville aside and sat in one of the armchairs, pulling the little boy into his lap. Together they watched Snape and Pomphrey examine Draco, opening his eyes to flash wand light at them, checking his pulse, running lights of different kinds over his body. Occasionally they would meet eyes and communicate in nods or small shakes of the head but Harry didn't know what any of it meant and he could feel Neville trembling in his arms.

When they were done Snape readjusted the blanket, which had shifted during the exam, with gentler movements than Harry had ever seen from the sallow man. Pomphrey came to the boys, lifting Neville up in her arms for a brief tight hug before returning him to Harry.

Harry tried to be patient, but when it looked as though the two adults weren't going to say anything, he blurted, "Is he dying?"

Pomphrey closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked from Harry to Neville and back again. Pasting a sickly smile on her face, she said, "Of course not. He's fine, just has a touch of a cold. Lots of rest and fluids and he'll be back on his feet."

Harry rolled his eyes briefly and saw Neville doing the same. Turning to the boy, he said, " Hey Nev , it's cold in here and Draco isn't exactly dressed. Why don't you go into his room and get his nightclothes and a dressing gown?"

Harry saw skepticism in the deep brown eyes, but after a few seconds of consideration, punctuated by Draco's shivers, Neville nodded and went to find the clothes. Harry heard the drawers slapping against the bureau and motioned Pom closer.

"Okay, Neville is gone so you can tell me exactly what is happening. I know it's more serious than a cold, Draco told me about the curse. What can I do to help?"

Snape glided closer and said in a hissing whisper, "There's nothing you can do, Potter. My godson isn't someone you can save this time."

Harry turned to the Professor, "Your godson? Then can you do anything? I know Draco needs to be with his family, and godfather has to count, right?"

He turned to Pom but she just had a sad and lost look on her face that was echoed in Snape's eyes.

"I wish it were that simple, Harry, but the curse is very specific. The 'family' must be tied to He Who Must Not Be Named, and related to the child by blood or marriage."

Snape rubbed lightly at his forearm, "While I fulfill one of the requirements, I do not fill the other; therefore there is nothing I can do. No tonic, no potion, no magic spell or charm can stop that boy from dying."

With a dramatic sweep of his cape, Snape turned and exited to suite of rooms, but not before Harry saw the traitorous gleam of tears in his black eyes.

Pomphrey looked after him and sighed, "Poor man. He's done everything he could."

"How long do we have," Harry asked Pomphrey, laying his cards on the table.

"If his fever breaks, two or three months, if not he won't last the night." The medi-witch sighed, looking at the sleeping blond, "Maybe it would be better this way, he wouldn't have to suffer."

Harry looked at Draco, pale and shivering on the couch under the thickly quilted blanket. His face was still pink and drops of sweat trailed along his hairline. Harry compared that image to any other he had of the Slytherin blond and felt a cold rage building in his chest.

"He won't die. Not tonight, and not in a few months."

"Harry, I know you don't want him to die, but—"

"Get out Madame Pomphrey."

"Harry—," she tried to say something, but she was cut off by a strong wind that came from nowhere inside the stone tower room and pushed her gently but firmly out the door, closing it behind her.

Neville popped his head around the doorway of Draco's room, looking around before stepping out, a set of silk pajamas and a thick cotton robe piled high in his arms.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths to calm down. When he felt a tug on his shirt sleeve he opened them again and saw Neville looking up at him.

"Are they gone," the boy asked, fumbling with the heavy material he was holding.

"Yes. We're going to take care of him ourselves."

The boy nodded, and then thrust the clothes into Harry's hands, "Good. Now you dress him. He says I'm not allowed to see him naked."

"Wait, what? When did you—Why," Harry sputtered as the boy walked off to the kitchen area, trailing a quietly merry giggle.

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**Note: **So… Our little Neville is a bit perverted, yeah? Well who can blame him, really. I felt a bit of levity was need as things are dark and will only get darker as we go on.

Please review and tell me what you think.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I'm just having a little fun… And pretty much blatantly asking for attention and praise as you can often see from my notes at the end of the chapters.

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**Chapter 11**

_Years later, that night would seem like a horrible, hazy nightmare to Harry and Neville both. _

Draco's fever raged and he was alternately burning up and throwing his blankets to the floor, or shivering violently from the cold in his bones. Harry tried to comfort him, wiping his brow, neck, and chest with cool damp cloths and half-pouring water down his throat, but the blond wept fitfully, calling out for his mother, for Severus, for help or death or peace.

At one point in the night he went silent and still. At Neville's urging Harry set a mirror under Draco's nose, watching for the faint tracings of mist from his breath. When it appeared Harry nearly wept with relief and he thought he saw Neville wipe at his eyes.

The blond was breathing, but the heartbeat Harry searched out in the pale and graceful neck was light and fluttering wildly like a bird's wing. And he was still so hot.

"Nevs, go start a bath, lukewarm or cooler. We have to get this fever down."

The little boy nodded, his eyes large and damp, and ran out of the room.

Smiling weakly, Harry turned back to Draco. "Okay, love, we have to get you out of those clothes."

Carefully he pulled back the heavy blankets, then untied Draco's robe and pushed it off his shoulders and down his limp arms.

"Better already, yeah," Harry murmured. Then he took a deep breath, this next bit would be tricky.

Dressing the feverish Malfoy hadn't been too hard. Harry felt the heat of the boy's skin against his chest and arms and tried to focus on the fact that he was very, very ill. Plus Neville had been standing at his side, ready to assist with anything Harry or Draco might need. And nothing took the sexual tension out of a moment like the presence of an inquisitive six year old boy.

But as Harry unbuttoned Draco's silk pajama top he began to feel the tingling in his groin that told him this would be different. Undressing someone was an intimate act, and as each bit of pale flesh was exposed Harry found himself half wondering what this would be like if the Slytherin was awake and participating, watching him with heavy lidded grey eyes, perhaps helping him slip the tiny buttons free of the constrictive holes—

"You're not done yet?"

Neville's voice snapped Harry out of his reverie, and he felt the tingles in his lower body die a cold and embarrassing death. Clearing his throat awkwardly, he rushed through the rest of the buttons, then pushed off the shirt. Gently lifting the Slytherin's hips he was able to pull his pajama pants free and within a few moments Draco was nude and in Harry's arms. Harry carried the boy into the bathroom, a silent Neville at his heels, and set him in the bath, propping his lolling head against the edge of the tub.

"What do we do now," Neville asked.

"We have to cool him down. The cold compress wasn't enough."

Neville moved forward, a serious look on his face, and took up a clean washcloth, dipping it in the lukewarm water that drifted around Draco's feverish body, and then pressing the damp cloth against Draco's forehead and cheeks. After a few seconds he turned to Harry, "Well, come on. We have to help him."

Harry nodded and took up a cloth of his own, pressing the damp fabric over Draco's chest and arms, any inch of the flushed pink skin he could find above the water line of the tub, absently noticing pale golden freckles dotting Draco's shoulders. He tried to keep his eyes away from any of the other boy's more intimate areas, going so far as to submerge a hand towel and drape it across his lower torso.

Slowly the violent pink flush began to recede, and as Harry checked Draco's forehead the boy moved slightly in response. Harry smiled. "I think he's getting better, he reacted."

"Bloody cold… naked…," the blond mumbled.

Harry heard a quiet giggle next to him and turned to Neville who seemed to share the same excitement he did.

"He's better. If he's complaining he must be better," the boy whispered.

"Well I think he's feeling better, but the fever might not be broken yet. We need to warm him back up now."

Harry sent Neville to get a few of the fluffy bath towels Draco kept in a cabinet just outside the door. Once the little boy was gone, Harry leaned over and wrapped Draco's arms around his neck, pulling him out of the tub and feeling the heavy weight of the drenched towel that had been protecting the Slytherin's modesty slide away.

Draco's body was almost completely limp, and Harry looked for somewhere dry he could set the boy so he wouldn't fall over. The toilet seat was the only available surface, so Harry set the blond down, but when he tried to pull away he found he couldn't. Draco's arms were still clasped around his neck, and the blond was surprisingly strong, even half-unconscious. Harry tried to gently maneuver free, but that just made Draco pull him tighter. Feeling the pressure cut off the air to his head, Harry knelt down on the floor next to the toilet, hoping to loosen Draco's grip that way.

"You really need to let go," he said the unconscious blond.

"Don't want to," the grey-eyed boy mumbled.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "Draco? You're awake?"

The grip loosened as the boy's body grew limp again. If he had woken up he was asleep again, and Harry saw Draco shivering as he managed to get free and pulled away.

"Here, towels," Neville said as he came into the room, thrusting a foot thick stack of the fluffy towels in Harry's face.

Harry reached for them, and then darted back to Draco's side as the unconscious boy sagged heavily on the toilet seat and slid. Wrapping the towel awkwardly over Draco's hips, he then lifted the boy slightly, motioning for Neville to finish the job.

Once Draco's modesty was preserved, the two boys began the job of drying him off. Once he was dry, they wrapped him in another of the thick robes the blond had in abundance and Harry carried him to his bed which Neville had stripped and covered in fresh sheets without any prompting.

As they settled Draco on the bed, Harry searched the boy's face for any sign that his progress earlier had continued, but it as looked as though they had lost ground as Draco was still as stone and the vivid pink flush of fever stained his cheeks again.

A chair sat next to the bed and Harry allowed himself to collapse into it, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He had been so sure that he and Neville were doing the right thing, fighting to keep Draco alive until they could find some sort of cure. But maybe Pomphrey and Snape were right. Maybe it was better to let him go now, peacefully—

A solid punch to the knee brought Harry's thoughts back to the present, and as he opened his eyes he saw Neville glaring at him fiercely.

"You said we would make him better but he's not," the little boy said.

Harry looked at Neville. The little boy was drawn and pale, and he had deep purple shadows under his eyes. Harry knew if he were to look in a mirror he would see the same thing on his own face.

"I'm sorry Neville. I thought the bath would help, but he's just the same." Despairing, Harry buried his face in his hands. His muscles were sore from moving the unconscious Slytherin, and all he wanted to do was sleep.

He felt a gentle pat on his arm and looked up.

"Don't worry. We'll think of something. He's going to be fine," Neville said.

Harry swallowed a bitter laugh. His six year old half-psychotic charge was comforting him.

Shaking his head slightly to drive away the negative thoughts that had paralyzed him for a few moments, Harry focused on Neville. "If cooling him down didn't work then we have to go the opposite way."

The boy stared at him quizzically as Harry explained.

A few minutes later Harry had returned to his chair, Neville perched on his lap as they both sat watch over Draco, now thickly covered in every blanket the two could find.

At first there was no reaction. Then Draco began to toss slightly under the weight of the covers, the flush on his face brightening.

Harry felt Neville become heavier on his lap and he looked to see the little boy had fallen asleep. Harry stood, setting Neville on the chair before transfiguring it into a more comfortable chaise, and then taking a place on the floor so he could watch both of them.

Neville slept fitfully, as if even in his dreams he was watching Draco sweat and mumble under the heavy bedding. Harry checked his watch periodically as the minutes ticked into hours.

At about two-thirty Draco, soaked in sweat, began to push the blankets away.

Harry stood up quickly, ignoring his cramped muscles, and moved to pull them back into place, but the Slytherin fought him off with kitten-weak hands.

"Dammit Draco. We're trying to help you," Harry muttered, not expecting a response.

"Help me? You're going to smother me to death, you berk. Or was this you plan all along," Draco replied, his voice soft but clear.

Harry looked at the Slytherin. Draco was awake, his eyes clear and alert.

"What? What are you looking at?" Draco looked to the side, his gaze visibly softening as it fell on Neville, before firming as he examined his surroundings. "How did I get in my room? I was in the bath. And I—" He cut himself off and pulled the blankets up from his chest, peering into the shadows beneath before shoving them back and tucking them firmly under his armpits. "Potter. Did you dress me?"

The flush of fever had given way to the healthier blush of rage and embarrassment and Harry couldn't stop himself. He knew it was part relief, part exhaustion, and part hysteria, but he began laughing and couldn't stop, to the point where he fell to his knees on the floor no longer able to stand.

When he could breathe again, Harry replied, "Dressed you, undressed you, and dressed you again. I never knew you had freckles, Malfoy."

A faint pink blush sprouted on the Slytherin's cheeks as he brought his hands up to cover his robe-clad shoulders and looked away from Harry.

In that moment the Gryffindor felt ashamed.

"I'm sorry. You're sick and I-- Are you feeling better? Do you need anything," Harry asked quickly, even as he felt a wave of exhaustion washing over his body.

Draco shook his head, his eyes beginning to close. He yawned, then said, "Are you okay, Potter? You look dead on your feet."

Harry shook his head, shifting until he was sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. Half asleep, he felt hands on his arms, urging him to move. He followed their lead because he didn't have the energy to fight and found himself on a soft, warm surface.

The last thing he heard as he fell into darkness was, "Thank you, Harry."

Some hours later he woke up when he felt a heavy weight on his chest. Looking down he saw a slim arm draped over his heart and below that a shaggy brown head. Neville had managed to wedge himself onto the bed between and half on top of Harry and Draco. Harry thought about getting up, but he was warm and comfortable, so he let himself be lulled back to sleep by the warm puff of Draco's deep, even breaths against his skin, and the snuffling snores of the little boy.

(_12345_)

**Note:** Aw. Isn't that sweet? Well, Draco isn't dead. Yet. Now, I have had a lot of speculation in the reviews as to what will have to happen in this story, and I have to tell all of you that I'm a bit of a contrarian which means the best way to get me to not do something is to ask me to do it. Doesn't make much sense, but there you go. As it stands, my original intention was to have Harry marry Draco to save his life. But now I think I have to be a little bit trickier, and it think it will serve the story better in the long run, so have a little faith in me and a little patience and we'll all see how things turn out.

Please review. It makes me feel popular.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world.

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**Chapter 12**

Harry woke up when he heard someone clearing their throat roughly, but he tried to ignore it and rolled over. The bed he was in was cool, but he could feel the faintest hint of warmth in the pillows, and he buried his face in the soft sheets.

He heard the throat clearing again and blindly reached for the blankets to pull over his head. They had wrapped around his hips and he had to shift as he pulled the covers out from under his body up over his head.

Then he heard it.

Giggling.

Slowly, grudgingly, he opened one eye, then the other. He had taken off his glasses at some point, or someone had done it for him, and all he could really see was a room decorated in cool shades of blue and two blurry forms, one tall and pale, and the other short and brown.

The pale figure moved closer, offering something that glinted slightly in the dim light of the blue room and as it approached Harry could see the shining object was his glasses, and the pale figure handing them to him was Draco Malfoy. A completely dressed and healthy Draco Malfoy.

A giggling Draco Malfoy.

Harry put on his glasses, almost jabbing himself in the eye with one ear piece before he got them in place, then he looked at the short brown figure, Neville, for answers.

Neville just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at him before taking Draco's now empty hand and half-leading, half-dragging the blond out of the room.

Harry forced himself out of the bed, sheets still snuggly with the leftover heat of three bodies. He was dressed, though his clothes had seen better days, and he walked out into the main room yawning and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Finally decided to join us, Potter?"

Harry heard the Potions professor before he saw him, but he didn't have the energy to argue with the man. He made his way to the couch and collapsed on the over-stuffed cushions.

"Morning Professor. And to what do we owe the honor of your visit," he said, scratching his chest through his well-wrinkled tee shirt.

The older man opened his mouth, thin lips already curled into a sneer when he looked over at Draco, then he closed it again into a thin and pale line. Following his glance Harry looked at the Slytherin as well. There was more light in the living/dining room than there was in the bedroom and Harry could clearly see that while Draco looked better, he was still very ill. Dark circles rested under his eyes and his skin was chalk-white.

On top of that, the bright smile that had greeted Harry only a few moments ago had faded, leaving the boy looking exhausted and sad.

Harry met Snape's eyes and the two communicated silently, with no magical assistance. There were shades of gratitude in that speaking look, and a mix of sorrow and hope.

Harry gave the professor the most reassuring look he could muster.

Then he turned to the small table where Draco and Neville were eating and chatting about the weather. Standing, he extended his hand to the black-clad man. "Would you like to join us for breakfast, Professor?"

"I would very much like to, Mr. Potter," Snape replied before rising, and together the two men walked to the table.

(_12345_)

After breakfast, flush and confident from his efforts to save Draco's life the night before, Neville insisted on going flying. Moreover he wanted Draco to join them.

The Slytherin tried to demure, and Harry could see the fatigue in his eyes, but Neville claimed the blond owed him a life-debt and he was cashing it in.

Harry assumed the boy got the expression from one of the Muggle videos Dumbledore provided.

Draco agreed, but refused to fly, instead bringing along a blanket and a picnic basket the House Elves prepared.

The weather was beautiful, and Harry could feel the cool breeze wrapping around his legs and blowing through his hair. He was carrying two brooms, and behind him he heard Neville struggling with the picnic basket. Draco carried the blanket, and together the little group made their way from the castle to the Quidditch pitch. When they got there, Harry helped Draco lay out the blanket, pinning down the loose corners with the contents of the picnic basket; a few bottles of butterbeer, a plate of sandwiches, and a bowl of fruit, all charmed for freshness and to keep the ants away.

Pulling a book from his robe pocket, Draco waved Neville and Harry off, and with a light feeling in his chest, Harry took to the sky.

An hour or so later he came back down to earth at Neville's urging and the three boys sat down to lunch together. As they ate Harry studied Draco closely. The fresh air seemed to have done the blond some good as there was a becoming flush on his cheeks, soft pink and not the violent red of fever, thank Merlin. Draco was smiling as Neville reenacted his latest trick, hanging from his ankles from the broom in mid-air, and Harry was thankful for the distraction. Harry wasn't sure how he would react if Draco knew that Harry was watching him.

Shaking his head at confusion over his own thought, Harry turned his attention to his beef and chutney sandwich.

When he was done he lay back on the grass, his head pillowed on his arms, and stared at the clouds. Neville's prattling slowed, then stopped and Harry sat up to see what happened only to find that the little boy had fallen asleep, his head resting on Draco's outstretched leg.

The Slytherin was looking down at the little boy with a soft smile on his face, and Harry was struck by the image of the two of them resting together. They looked happy. They looked comfortable. They looked like a family.

Again Harry felt the way he had the first night when Draco and Neville were laughing together at a private joke. He was outside of them, the weird little family that they had formed over their weeks together.

Shaking off the cloud that had fallen over his thoughts, Harry leaned back and stared at the clouds again.

"Potter?"

Draco's voice was soft, probably to keep from waking the tiny terror resting on the blond's knee, but Harry just enjoyed the sound of it.

"Potter, are you awake?"

Since Draco clearly wanted to talk about something, Harry sat up and focused on him. In the warm glitter of the late afternoon Harry could see the shadows under the Slytherin's eyes hadn't faded. In fact, they had become more prominent.

"Draco, are you okay?"

The other boy shook his head, smiling wanly. "'Fraid not, Potter," he said, "But we've been over this and at the moment my greatest concern is that I can't shove this great beast off me."

Draco nudged Neville and Harry could see he was in fact being very delicate with the little boy.

"Here," Harry said, "I'll carry him in if you—can you manage the picnic things?"

Draco nodded and Harry stood, lifting the boneless weight of the heavily sleeping Neville into his arms. The boy was small for his age, but it always felt like he gained weight when he fell asleep.

Shifting the boy into a comfortable position on his hip, Harry watched Draco gather the picnic blanket and empty plates and tuck them back into the basket. He imagined it must be lighter with most of the food gone, but it looked as though Draco was still struggling with the weight.

Before he had the chance to think about it, Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a lightening charm at the basket. Draco smiled and lifted the now-lighter basket easily, setting off on the path back to the castle. Harry followed, staggering a bit under the weight of Neville and slightly distracted by the flow of Draco's robes around his lithe form.

When they returned to their rooms, Harry carried Neville to his bed, tucking him securely under the thick blankets the little boy's Gran had provided. Then he walked out of the bedroom to see Draco unpacking the picnic basket and setting the empty plates and bottles in their small kitchen area, where the house elves would retrieve, wash, and return them.

Taking a deep breath Harry stretched the muscles that had cramped up, first from flying, then laying on the ground, then carrying a few too many pounds of sleeping little boy to the castle. That done, he flopped on the couch, his eyes beginning to droop so that he barely noticed Draco taking a seat next to him until the other boy spoke.

"I like flying, Potter."

Woken out of a half drowse by the bald statement, Harry turned to Draco and waited to see what else he would say.

The blond looked sad yet resigned as he went on. "I like flying but I don't dare do it anymore. I get dizzy spells at the most inconvenient times and I never know when I will be fine and when I may be on the verge of—Oh, let's call it a manly collapse, shall we? It sounds better than faint."

This last was said with a wry smile that Harry couldn't help but return. "Okay, a manly collapse. And how long has this been going on?"

The blond flushed slightly and looked away. "It's been a few weeks now, towards the end of the school year. Apparently dizziness is one of the first symptoms."

At that word Harry felt his stomach drop and he sat up straighter on the couch. "What are the rest of the symptoms, Malfoy?"

"You know, Potter, you've seen me naked. You're allowed to use my first name."

Harry felt a hot blush rise on his cheeks and tried not to picture that pale skin. Shaking his head to drive the images away, he said, "Fine. Draco, what are the symptoms?"

"Well you know about two of them, the dizziness and the fevers. Both will increase in severity as the curse acts. It's sort of like a virus, but it uses my immune system against me."

Harry was confused and said so.

Draco sighed. "Look Potter, when you get sick, say the flu or something, you get really tired, yeah? And a fever?"

Harry nodded, not sure where this was going.

"When your body is fighting a bug it can cause a fever, and the tiredness is from all the energy you're using to fight the flu or cold or whatever it is."

"So it's like you have a bad flu?"

"In a sense. The curse makes my body believe I'm ill, forcing it to fight. But of course I'm not sick, so that fighting does nothing but take my energy. My magical core will eventually be eaten away by the fevers and exhaustion, and once that goes, I'm gone."

Harry was more surprised at the flippant phrasing than the actual words.

"Look, it all made sense to Voldemort, flaming lunatic that he is. He thought that if you wouldn't fight for him, you shouldn't fight at all, so he found a curse that made 'traitors to the cause' weak enough to be killed."

Draco yawned, one hand covering his mouth, then stood up. "I'm going to go get some rest. According to Severus that will help prolong things a bit. If you have any more questions you can ask him, he's been researching this for years."

Draco walked to his bedroom and paused in the doorway. Without looking back, he said, "Thank you Potter, for… for taking care of me." Then he was gone into the dim bedroom, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts on the living room couch.

(_12345_)

**Note: **I have to confess that I do not normally use a beta. I rely heavily on spelling and grammar check and I reread my work a number of times before posting, but my eyes are almost always the only ones to see these stories before you guys do. This past week I decided to send some of my work to my beta, DerSaboteur. She is of the opinion that this story is nearly over and if any of you share that impression I must correct this misperception. This story still has a heck of a long way to go. There will be some angst and drama, some romance and action, a whole lot of good stuff, plus a lot of sassy little Neville, so I hope you can all be patient with me and stick around for the long haul.

Okay, go on and review. I'm going to go grab a few analgesics and take a little nap. I have a bit of a headache.


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

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**Chapter 13**

After Draco left the room Harry found that any trace of exhaustion had fled and he was now wide awake. He stood up and checked in on Neville, seeing the little boy sleeping in a ball in the middle of his bed, then left their quarters, heading for the dungeons.

The castle was empty during the summer. Most of he professors were away on vacations or educational trips and there were no other students staying behind. Even Peeves had abandoned the castle, going wherever poltergeists went when their usual home got too boring.

Dumbledore was gone on a mysterious mission but Snape was still in residence, working on some way to bring Neville back to his regular age. It was early evening, but Harry knew exactly where he would find the professor.

Thanks to the Marauder's Map Harry had discovered a secret potions laboratory down an otherwise empty hallway. Night after night he had seen a small mark symbolizing Snape travel the same path that Harry now followed.

Soft lights seemed out through the cracks around the door and Harry knocked gently, wincing as even that quiet sound echoed in the empty hallway.

There was no response, so he knocked again, louder.

"Come in, Potter."

Harry told himself the only reason Snape knew it was him was because there was no one else in the castle, but the hairs that were standing up on the back of his neck were much harder to convince.

Inside the potions lab was nothing Harry expected it to be. He thought it would be more like their classroom, dark and dusty, with long shelves covered in mysterious jars full of fairly disgusting things. He expected Snape to come swooping out of the shadows like a bird of prey.

Instead it was probably the most well lit room Harry had ever seen in the castle. Long fluorescent lights lined the ceiling, casting a cool white glow down on gleaming counters and shining instruments. There were no potions ingredients in sight, but large cabinets covered one wall and Harry assumed everything would be in there.

And instead of the scowling black-clad figure Harry expected to see-- Well, the man was still scowling, but the robes were gone, leaving him in plain black trousers and a white shirt, long sleeves rolled up above the elbow. Even his long hair had been tied into a neat tail at the back of his neck.

"Did you need something, Potter? Or are you just going to stand there and stare for the rest of the evening?"

Harry smiled, relieved at least one thing hadn't changed.

The light moment passed quickly as Harry got down to business. "I need to know everything you know about Draco's condition and what I can do to save him."

The Potions Master frowned and turned back to what he had been doing before Harry came in, some sort of intricate arrangement of tubes and vials and smoke and various colored liquids.

If Harry hadn't been paying attention he would have missed the moment when Snape's hands shook as his voice was steady as a rock.

"There is nothing we can do."

"There has to be someth—"

"There is nothing we can do." The professor's voice was even, but Harry could hear the strain that underlay the harsh words.

Taking a deep breath and a step back, Harry reminded himself that the professor had known about all of this longer than he had.

In a more even tone of voice, he said, "Are you sure? I mean, you're his godfather, so there has to be some kind of tie between you, and I know you're tied to Voldemort through that stupid tattoo."

Harry saw Snape's shoulders tense before the man put the vial in his hand on the table and turned to him. Harry bit back a gasp. The dark circles under Snape's eyes were almost as dark as the ones on Draco's face, and the older man looked just as drawn and exhausted.

Snape wiped a hand over his face, then looked at Harry. "Look, Potter, I am finally starting to believe that there is more of your mother than your father in you, Draco has shown me that much and I thank Merlin for it. But you cannot do anything here but make his last—his last months more comfortable."

The older man's voice broke on those words and Harry felt something in his chest soften. He knew Snape was on his side, despite his attitude and behavior, but to see him so vulnerable brought to the forefront the fact that Snape was human, and through that idea that all of his professors were human, which was really jarring.

Harry took a few steps closer, torn between wanting to offer the older man some sort of comfort and maintaining the distance that they had grown accustomed to.

After a few seconds of indecision Harry saw Snape gather his dignity again. "I have been researching this for the past two years in the hope and fear that Draco would do as he has done and decide not to join the Dark Lord. In all that time the only cure I found was the curse itself, to marry Draco to someone tied to the Dark Lord. As all of those people are Death Eaters I think being bound to them would be worse than what he's experiencing now."

"But you're tied to Voldemort, couldn't you do something?"

The man looked away for a moment. "Because I am his godfather I cannot be blood tied to him, nor can I marry him. I am his guardian as far as magic and the law are concerned. There is nothing I can do."

Harry began to feel uncomfortable hearing the pain in Snape's voice, but he had one more question. "If it would save his life, would you marry him?"

The professor looked down so Harry looked down as well, studying the pattern of the marble floor as the older man's words flowed overhead.

"I have known that boy since he was a child, and I love him as if he were my own son, as the only son I will ever have. But if I could, if I had to, to save his life, I would."

With that Snape turned back to his potions and Harry walked out of the lab. And if he heard the shrill music of shattering glass behind him as he traveled away from the lab he said nothing.

(_12345_)

For the next week life went on in its new routine. The three members of the strange family ate together in the morning and then Draco could be persuaded to sit on the grass and read while Harry and Neville flew before the three of them returned to the castle for lunch, some indoor exploring, and an early dinner.

After that Neville and Draco would retreat to their respective bedrooms to sleep and Harry would sit up and stare into the fire the house elves laid out thinking about life and death.

Though he and Professor Snape didn't discuss the issue anymore, books would appear on his bedside table every few days about curses and bonds and loyalty oaths.

And every day Draco seemed to get worse.

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**Note: **So there we are, something nice and easy. The real angst and the real business will be starting soon. I have talked this story out with my beta, whose opinion I always respect and only occasionally ignore, and I think you'll enjoy some of what will be coming up in the next few chapters.

Okay, I am getting sick again so I am going to post and then power down. Then it's sleepy time for Chivalry.

Review. Um… Please?


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** I do not own these characters or this world. But I am rather having a good time.

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**CHAPTER 14**

One morning Harry woke up on the couch, a copy of "A Complete Idiot's Guide to Family Curses" draped over his chest. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but this time he found Draco standing over him, a queer look on his face.

Harry felt his cheeks heat as he quickly closed the book and half-stuffed it under a couch cushion.

"What are you doing here--I mean, up?"

Draco smiled. "Our little tornado woke me and said you were drooling. I had to see for myself."

"I don't drool," Harry said, looking around for Neville and absently wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Of course you don't," Draco said. "Now get up and get changed. Nev has plans for the day."

Immediately Harry was filled with a sense of dread. The last time Neville 'had plans for the day' Harry had to rescue him from the giant squid while the little boy protested he 'was only trying to make friends.' Draco was no help as the blond was prostrate with laughter on the bank.

The time before that the little boy wanted to travel every set of stairs in the castle. Draco got to sit that out protesting he didn't have the energy for that much walking and Harry got the pleasure of pulling Neville out of every missing step and booby trap and away from every shifting staircase they found, and Neville found all of them.

Harry wasn't sure he could live through another day of Neville's plans.

Suddenly the little boy practically skipped into the room and Harry reflexively flinched. Over the month and a half that the three of them lived together Neville became better behaved, but he was still an absolute magnet for 'adventure'

Harry stood up and stretched. He looked at Draco to ask where Neville was and froze.

Draco was staring at him.

Draco was staring at him and blushing.

Harry looked at the area where the blond's eyes were focused and saw that his shirt had risen in the night, exposing a fairly good-sized strip of his stomach and more than a little of the dark trail of hair that lead from his belly button to… other places.

Feeling a rush of heat in his cheeks, though not entirely sure where it came from, Harry dropped his arms and pulled his shirt down, pretending not to see Draco blush brighter and turn away.

"So, where are we off to today," Harry asked both of his roommates, trying to keep his tone even.

Draco answered. "He's found a storage room he wants to go through. Says he wants to find buried treasure." The blond snorted softly. "If you ask me he's been watching too many pirate movies, but what can you do?"

Neville scowled at both of them. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here. Now, let's go!"

With that he was in front of the door, twitching from foot to foot while he waited half an eternity for Draco and Harry to cross the room and follow him.

Together the three boys wandered the halls of Hogwarts until Harry had no idea where they were. The Marauder's Map was stashed in his back pocket, but he didn't know if this was something he wanted to share yet, so he kept mum.

Finally Neville stopped in front of a massive tapestry woven with the image of the Whomping Willow. Harry wasn't sure if it was the quality of the weaving or the same magic that animated portraits but the branches of the tree swung in a disturbingly realistic fashion and Harry had a hard time not flinching away.

Draco reached out, wand in hand, to look for a doorway, but before he could do anything Neville swung the heavy fabric out of the way and disappeared into a shadowy niche behind he fabric.

Draco rushed after Neville and Harry rushed after Draco and the three of the ended up in an echoing hall, walls lined with high windows that let long streams of sunlight fall over sheet-covered furniture and a dusty floor.

"What is this place," Draco muttered.

"It's some kind of storage room or something. But methinks there be treasure here," Neville said, finishing in a squeaky imitation of some Saturday matinee pirate.

Draco looked at Harry, his pale pink lips pressed into a thin line and one white-blond brow arched.

Harry said nothing. He was tempted to mirror Draco's expression, but he had never been able to arch one eyebrow. No, it was all or nothing for the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

Still he did manage not to laugh, which he thought was Draco's goal as well, as they watched Neville tear off through the room.

After a few seconds of walking around and just looking at things, Neville apparently decided a more hands-on approach was required and he began pulling dust-stained sheets off of various pieces of furniture.

One sheet managed to dislodge a very large urn on top of an armoire and Draco rushed forward to save Neville from himself. True to form the little boy didn't say 'thank you' after his near-squashing before he went on stripping the old furniture of its protective covering.

Draco followed Neville more closely now, to prevent any more accidents from occurring and Harry trailed a few steps behind, taking his own time examining the ancient pieces of wood and magic that used to fill the rooms of Hogwarts.

He heard Neville's voice rise in excitement and turned away from a table engraved in stags and dragons to see the little boy lifting the lid of a battered old trunk before it released a wisp of grey.

Reflexively Draco pulled Neville behind him as the grey mist coalesced into a painful and familiar shape.

The shape of a pale and thin blond lying on a bier, as still as the grave.

The dusty storage room grew colder and deep shadows inched across the floor, wrapping the three boys in heavy darkness with nothing but a cold white light focused on the body.

Harry saw the real Draco's eyes grow wide and glazed. He shouted out, trying to catch the Boggart's attention, but every second it took for Harry to walk towards the painful scene, the illusion became more and more detailed.

Draco was frozen, the only movement in his body that of Neville shuddering behind him, fierce sobs shaking his form.

Harry finally felt like he drew the boggart's attention from the shivers that ran down his spine and he expected it to turn into a Dementor, or Voldemort, or Snape, for Merlin's sake, but it stayed as it was.

The perfect image of a very deceased Draco Malfoy.

Harry clenched his eyes shut, trying to force the memory of something, anything funny into his mind. But all he could remember was the painful things, and the frightening things, the endless day they spent trying to lower Draco's fever, until the hours they half-buried him under heavy blankets and sheets…

And just like that something came to mind.

And the image began to change.

The first change was a deep and even breath, and as the illusion breathed, so did the real Draco.

Then the shroud that covered the body changed into a lovely pink ball gown spangled with rhinestones and sequins as the bier on which the now not-so-dead boy rested became an extravagant bed. The thick pile of mattresses grew higher, and higher…

And higher.

The now-sleeping Princess Draco began to fret and shift on it's elevated bed before it's eyes snapped open, revealing a very familiar fury as he howled, "I think there is a bloody pea under this sodding mattress!"

And with that Neville, who had been inching his way out from behind Draco, began to laugh. That broke the spell pf the moment and Harry shouted _Riddikulous_. With a final disdainful snort the Boggart collapsed in on itself.

With that the last of the once-fearful and now hilarious illusion dissipated into a harmless grey fog that drifted back to the chest it had emerged from. Harry slammed the lid closed, sinking heavily onto the aged trunk, his head still spinning.

He rubbed his eyes wearily, trying to wipe away that image, that horrible image.

Neville recovered from his now-hysterical laughing and turned to Harry with tears in his eyes. ""That was hilarious. He was a princess, Draco was a princess. What was that? I was so scared!"

When Neville stopped for breath, Harry heard Draco's even tones cut in.

"That was a boggart. It turns into the image of what you most fear and it can be defeated in the same way as all fears must. With bravery and with humor."

Harry looked up and met Draco's turbulent grey gaze.

The blond spoke again. "I think we've had enough treasure hunting this morning, don't you? So why don't we go get something to eat."

Neville nodded and ran ahead. Harry had shown the boy the secret passage to the kitchens at the beginning of the summer and made sure the house elves gave him healthier snacks most of the time.

Harry stood up from the chest and took a few steps to follow before he noticed Draco wasn't moving. Stopping he turned back and looked at the other boy.

Draco was standing stock-still, staring blankly at the chest the boggart had emerged from.

Trying to catch his attention, Harry cleared his throat roughly. When Draco looked up, Harry said, "Are you all right?"

The Slytherin smiled weakly. "I thought I wasn't afraid to die. But it seems like the boggart knew better."

With that he walked past Harry and out of the room.

(_12345_)

**Note: **So, this has been a bad week for Chivalry and the writing. I got really sick this time. I didn't go the hospital, but I had to stay home from work for a day and when I was at work we were really busy, so most of this chapter was written today. Still, I think it holds up well and it doesn't feel to rushed to me so I hope you guys enjoy it.

Okay, review. Seriously. Do it. Serio-- not even kidding, not even the teeniest, tiniest, most microscopically little bit.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I do, however, own the rant I will put at the end of this chapter.

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**CHAPTER 15 **

They walked down the hallway in silence, Draco a few feet ahead. Harry was distracted by thoughts of the events in the storage room. It was clear that Draco's fears had formed the boggart, but when it noticed Harry it didn't change.

Though he couldn't call the Slytherin a friend, exactly, apparently he didn't want him to die either.

Together they made their way to the kitchens and found Neville covered in flour helping the House Elves, who looked very much like they didn't want to be helped, to make a cake. Once the mess was cleared away and a burnt and misshapen chocolate flavored lump dutifully cooed over the three boys returned to their regular pursuits. Harry and Neville went flying, and Draco spread out a blanket and napped on the grass.

Dinner was a subdued affair and before it was halfway over both Neville and Draco were yawning.

Harry helped Draco get Neville ready for bed. Then the two of them sat up for a bit longer watching television before Draco went to bed himself.

Harry decided to do the same, even though he wasn't very tired, but before he had the chance he heard a piercing scream from Neville's room.

He jumped to his feet and moved towards the door, then stumbled back as a bathrobe-clad form pushed him aside. When he regained his footing he walked in to see Draco sitting on he mattress next to the little boy, Neville's face pressed against the blond's leg.

"Sh, love. It's all right, all right." Draco crooned softly and slowly Neville started to calm down.

Once the boy stopped shaking Draco gently moved him upright and slouched down to look into his red-rimmed eyes. "Now what happened? A nightmare?"

Neville nodded his head. "It was awful. There were all these scary giant people in robes and they killed my parents. I wanted to help them but I couldn't fight the giants."

The boy started to shudder and Draco resumed rubbing his back as he looked over the brunet head at Harry, a sorrowful grey cast to his eyes.

Together Draco and Harry sat with Neville, mumbling nonsense comforts into his ears until he

drifted off to sleep again. They carefully moved the boy away from where he had wrapped himself around Draco and together the two of them left he room, a candle still burning in the safety lantern by the bed.

Harry watched Draco walk past him and plant himself on the couch. The blond rubbed his eyes, then turned to Harry. "What do we do?"

Harry was dumbstruck. Draco Malfoy was asking him for help. Asking in such a manner that meant he actually wanted and planned to listen to his advice. Harry was tempted to pinch himself, but he decided not to ask for trouble, instead taking a seat next to the blond.

"I'm not sure what to do."

"Well what did your family do when you had nightmares, Potter," the blond asked snappishly.

Harry bit back a grimace, instead muttering, "Not much. Mostly they just told me to shut up."

Draco was silent for long seconds and Harry turned to see the other boy staring at him with an inquiring look in his eyes.

Harry shook his head. "I'm not talking about it. I don't care what you heard or what you believe about the way I grew up. I do not want to talk about it."

The Slytherin laughed then, one weak harsh laugh and when Harry looked at him, he was smirking.

"Did I ask?"

Harry sighed. "I suppose you didn't. but you will eventually, you have that look in your eyes--"

"What look?"

"The 'I want to know all about you and your tortured childhood' look. I actually get it rather a lot."

Draco smirked again. "And if I said I honestly don't care what your childhood was like?"

Harry felt a grin forming on his face and decided not to hide it. "I wouldn't believe you."

Draco laughed, harder and happier than he had before

"Shut up," Harry said, "Neville is asleep in there and unless you want to put him back to bed I suggest you stifle it."

Draco wiped tears from his eyes as he sputtered for a few more seconds, then stopped. "I couldn't help myself. I think I'm over-tired, but are we actually having proper conversation about a topic outside of Neville or my curse? Are we talking like normal people?"

Harry was puzzled. "We're not normal people."

Draco goggled before starting to laugh again. Harry heard movement from Neville's room and quickly pressed his hand over the Slytherin's mouth, trying to ignore the sensation of hot damp air over his skin and any shivers it may or may not have caused.

Once both Draco and Neville were quiet again Harry removed his hand. As he did he noticed that Draco's gaze seemed to follow his fingers until he buried his hand in his lap, twisting them in the hem of his shirt.

Suddenly uncomfortable, he stood. "I… I think I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Draco nodded, then stood, and both boys walked into their rooms.

Harry settled down in bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. It took him a long time to get comfortable, but once he did he fell asleep easily.

Unfortunately it didn't last. A few hours later he woke up with Voldemort's laugh echoing in his ears and an image of Draco lying dead haunting his memory. His heart was racing and his mouth felt dry so he got out of bed and went into their little kitchenette to get some water.

Once he had a drink he looked into Neville's room to see him sleeping peacefully. Then, his nightmare still fresh, he looked in on Draco.

The blond was facing the door, and a shaft of amber light from the living room fell across his face, highlights a damp trail of tears on his sleeping face. His brow was still wrinkled and he shifted fretfully so Harry walked away before Draco woke up and he was caught.

His could feel a head ache coming on and he rubbed his forehead, his fingers catching slightly on the raised scar tissue.

There was the beginning of an idea in his memory, shreds and fragments of what he had learned from the books and Snape, and he knew he could find a cure for the blond if he could just put it all together.

Everything he had read and heard began to spin in his mind as he grabbed his robes form his rooms and left their quarters. He feet traced the familiar path to Snape's lab and he hoped it all came together by the time he arrived, and that the man was there to help.

Only a few feet left to go and it hit him.

The solution. Not the door.

He crossed his fingers for luck and pushed the heavy wooden door open. On the other side Severus Snape stood over another mysterious potions device that was emitting a pink flame and green smoke, but as the door hit the wall of the lab he turned and Harry blurted out the answer that came to mind.

"I can marry him."

(_12345_)

**Note: **So there we have another chapter and the beginning of what more than a few of you have been waiting for, but… oh. I'm sorry. Did you think it would be that easy? Really?

As for the rant_. Okay. If I ever have another idea I am going to sit down in front of the fan with a cool drink until it goes away. This has been a stressful week with no time to think, much less write, and because I have bestowed upon myself yet another project I waited until the last minute to work on the week-end is even more stressful. I spent most of today working on this project despite the fact that the updates for this story and MY ANGEL aren't complete, which means I am writing them at 11:30 Saturday night, despite the fact that I have to get up early tomorrow._

_I do it to myself, but that doesn't mean I have to like it, right?_

Okay. I'm not asking for sympathy or empathy. I'm just tired and I needed to vent. If you liked the story, review. If you didn't like the story, flame. If you're cheesed off at where I ended it, complain.

I'm going to sleep now. (Well, not right now. I have to finish the MY ANGEL update first, then shut down the computer, brush my teeth, wash my face, and so on. But you get the idea.)


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world.

(_12345_)

**CHAPTER 16**

The lab was silent but for the humming of the fluorescent lights and the gentle ringing sound of a delicate glass vial falling from Snape's fingers to shatter on the floor, spraying an amethyst mist on the white linoleum and the professor's black shoes.

Harry kept his eyes focus on Snape's hands and the growing puddle of purple liquid on the floor, not sure if it was safe to look up yet.

"You can what, Mr. Potter."

Harry looked up carefully, taking a step back and closer to the door. "I can marry him. I fulfill all of the requirements. I'm tied to Voldemort as everyone can attest and if we get married we can do some kind of blood bond or something, right?"

The man was silent for long moments and Harry turned his eyes back to the liquid on the floor which was now smoking.

Snape muttered quietly and the floor was cleared of potion and vial. Harry peered up through his fringe to see the older man take a seat on one of the high stools, resting his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands.

After a few seconds Snape sat up and cleared his throat before turning to Harry.

Now facing him head on Harry could see that the older man's eyes were red-rimmed and shining. He couldn't really picture Snape crying but he imagined it must happen sometimes, and recent events were certainly enough provocation.

"Please, Potter. Repeat what you said."

Harry took a deep breath and stepped around the table, taking a set of his own.

"I can marry him."

Snape glared. "Yes. I heard that. I wish for you to explain where this idea comes from and what on earth makes you think my godson will go along with it."

"I-- I actually hadn't thought about that part."

Snape sneered. "That is very clear."

Harry felt a hot flush rising in his cheeks. "If you didn't want me to come to this conclusion then

why did you lead me to it," he demanded.

Snape looked away. "I did no such thing. I merely gave you the material to come to some sort of conclusion, even if that was no more than to give up on your impulse to rescue him"

Harry snorted. "Please. Half of those books say my plan is the only one that would work. And if I recall correctly you brought up marriage in the first place. Why are you so upset that I want to do this?"

Snape turned away from his contemplation of the floor and Harry felt the pressure of that obsidian glare against his skin. "Why do you want to do this, Potter? Are you in love with my godson?"

The hot flush returned and Harry shook his head frantically. "No. I mean, he's nice and I think we're almost friends an all but I'm not—"

"Then why? Is it your 'saving people thing' as I have heard Miss Granger call it? Is my godson just another outlet for your martyr complex?"

Harry shook his head, the rush of embarrassment turning into anger. "I don't have a martyr complex, and I'm not doing this to be a hero. I'm doing it because it's right and because he doesn't deserve to die. I mean, he's my age, and he says he isn't afraid and I know he's lying.

He knows he's lying. Why won't you help me?"

The older man looked at Harry silently before the ghost of a smile crossed his thin lips. "You seem quite impassioned, Mr. Potter. Are you sure you aren't in love with him?"

The question completely deflated Harry's temper and he turned his gaze to the shining table top.

"I'm not. I would know if I cared in that way and I don't." He looked up and met Snape gaze evenly. "But I do care about him."

Snape stared at him silently for a few minutes, then light pink tinted the man's high cheekbones and he cleared his throat several times before speaking. "Potter, you do know that you will have to be more… involved, with Draco for this to work?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again, his question stuck in his throat. He thought for a moment. "I'm not sure what you mea--." Finally it hit him and he felt a red hot blush race up his cheeks before he buried his face in his hands.

Snape's voice was smug. "Just so. Do you think you are capable, as it would be required of a consummated bond."

Harry raised his head just enough to mumble, "Really?"

"We can research different types of marriage bonds, but while we might be able to delay the curse with a non-physical union, eventually it would be necessary."

The room was silent as Harry contemplated bashing his head against the wall. Snape was human, he worried and he cried and he cared about people, but Harry could not discuss sex with the man. That was going too far.

Harry took a deep breath and stood up. "I have to think about this. I'm not-- I don't know-- I just need to think about this."

Snape said nothing and Harry walked out of the lab.

The dim grey light of false dawn leaked into the hallway from high windows. Harry's head was spinning. His body was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't get back to sleep any time soon so he left the castle and walked out to the Quidditch pitch.

He was still dressed in his pajamas and a robe and the cool morning breeze went through the thin fabric like it wasn't there. Harry shivered and wrapped his arms around his torso, but he was thankful for the cold. It woke him up and gave him a little clarity.

Taking off his robe and laying it on the driest patch of grass he could find Harry took a seat and closed his eyes.

He tried to imagine himself touching Draco… Being intimate with him. The Slytherin was handsome, that was just a fact, and over the past few weeks Harry had grown to know another side of him, a wry, funny, kind side that was completely unexpected and very… pleasant.

_But… sex? _

Harry had never been attracted to boys. The thought never crossed his mind, even after Seamus and Dean came out. There had been that unfortunate crush on Cho, and a few brief moments when he thought Ginny was growing up rather well. That had been quickly quashed by the creepiness factor of being attracted to someone who looked so much like Ron. _Not that there's anything wrong with Ron. He's actually quite handsome. Tall and muscular, and his bright blue eyes are very striking--_

_Okay, not thinking about Ron. This is not about Ron. _

Draco. Could he be with Draco?

Squeezing his eyes closed even tighter Harry tried to imagine what it would be like. He was a complete virgin, but he had a very vivid imagination.

He pictured Draco at his best, proud and strong, his hair shining in… moonlight. Rich green robes were wrapped around the other boy's thin form but as Harry's thoughts ran away from him the robe melted away, revealing absolute miles of pale skin dotted here and there with golden freckles like stars.

Harry remembered the feeling of that skin, feverish hot and so soft under his hands and…

Found himself suddenly very uncomfortable.

His eyes snapped open quickly and he looked down into his lap to see exactly what he expected. Fisting his hands at his sides he took long breaths of the cold air until everything had… calmed down. Then he stood up, gathering his dew-damp robe in his hands, and turned towards the castle, his heart feeling much lighter and a certain fire now banked, but ready to merrily burn.

When he got back to their quarters he saw both Neville and Draco at the table poking at their breakfast and yawning lustily. Dark circles surrounded both boy's eyes and Harry knew he was probably sporting the same.

But he felt like he was floating so he tossed his robe into his room and then joined them at the table, grinning brightly as he snatched an untouched slice of toast from Neville's plate.

"You two look glum. Bad night," he asked.

Draco glared at him as Neville said, "Bad dreams."

Harry nodded and reached out towards the little boy, laying his hand on the thin shoulder. When Neville turned from his breakfast to look at him, Harry smiled and said, "I understand how you feel, Neville. I lost my parents as well. But they loved you very much and they would want you to be happy."

The boy nodded, but brushed Harry's hand away. "I suppose you're right. May I be excused," he said.

"Yeah, Nev. Go on and go back to bed. Maybe you can sleep or a bit more," Draco said.

The boy rose from the table and walked back to his room.

Draco watched him go and after the little boy crossed the threshold, the blond turned to Harry. "What the devil as that, Potter? Do you want to make him more depressed?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I just wanted to cheer him up a bit. I didn't think he would be that upset. What happened?"

"You don't know?"

"I wasn't here. I-- I went for a walk. Nightmares of my own, you know."

Draco nodded. "Yeah. Well he had a few more bad dreams, same theme, his parents were being attacked and he couldn't do anything to save them." Draco looked at Harry. "Do you suppose they're really memories? From when he was a baby? I heard-- I heard what happened to his parents."

"I don't know. I only remember what happened to my mum because of the Dementors." At the mention of the grey specters Draco paled and Harry bit his tongue. Reminding the boy of a horrible prank gone wrong wasn't really the best way to begin a proposal of marriage. "Never mind. How are you? You don't look to have slept any better."

The blond laughed harshly. "If it wasn't his nightmares it was my own, I'm afraid."

"The Boggart?"

Draco nodded. "Stupid thing. I was trying to be brave and some petty creature that feeds on fear had to show me for the coward I am." He smiled, but it was a weak smile, shaking at the edges.

Harry laid his hand over Draco's where it rested on the table. The Slytherin boy's fingers were cold, but they became warmer in his grip.

They sat in silence for long moments as Harry tried to figure out how he would approach the bonding issue.

He was broken from his thoughts by Draco tugging his hand away. Harry turned to look at him and he saw a fetching blush highlight the boy's face as he raised a tea cup to his lips and half-hid behind it.

Over the lip of the porcelain Harry could see that Draco's eyes were going distant and sad again. Unable to bear it for another moment, he said, "Draco? Can I ask you something?"

Draco put down the cup and set the full force of his attention on Harry. "What is it?"

Harry cleared his throat a few times, looking longingly at his own, empty, tea cup as his throat seemed achingly dry. Finally he just said it. "I want you to marry me."

Draco's mouth fell open and his eyes began to glisten.

Harry saw the rise of tears and panicked. "It's for the curse, you see. I'm tied to Voldemort and if we get married then we have a bond and you won't die. I know you don't love me, but we're almost friends of a sort and this way you can live…" He trailed off as the shine in the blond's eyes died away, and took a breath of relief. No tears.

Now he just had to wait for an answer. He picked up his fork and twisted it in his fingers as Draco raised his cup again, took a long sip, and set it back down.

The blond's voice was even and cool as he said, "I always knew I wouldn't marry for love. My family is too rich and too powerful for that. But I will not marry for pity.

My answer is no."

(_12345_)

**Note: **Well I told you it wouldn't be that easy. If he said yes the story would be over, and this story is nowhere near over. There is a lot of angst and drama to go.

My project of last week-end was finished on time and greatly appreciated so I decided to be lazy today, but I still spent a good amount of time writing because I wanted to have my usual updates up for you guys.

So, read and review. But if you want to curse me out, mind the ratings.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer**: I don't own these characters, I don't own this world, and I don't own a hat with a stuffed vulture on it. Which is a shame because I've been told I have a hat face.

(_12345_)

**CHAPTER 17**

Harry sat at the table for long moments, Draco's words ringing in his ears. The House Elves had finally provided him a cup of tea as they cleared away the mostly untouched breakfast. He watched the thin streams of steam that rose from the cup fade as it cooled until they were gone.

In his head he replayed the long moments where he laid out his offer and Draco said no, trying to find the moment when it went wrong.

In his imagination things went completely differently. He proposed, laying his cards out on the table and telling Draco that it would be difficult, but Harry knew they could do it. And then the blond agreed.

And then, if Draco were amenable, they did it.

That wasn't part of the definite plan, but Harry was hoping they might get carried away by the moment.

He snorted a little at his own thoughts before standing up and turning back to his room. He was exhausted and confused and he wasn't sure which was worse.

"Harry?"

Harry felt his back stiffen up at the soft sound. He turned to see Neville standing a few feet way, looking down at the floor as he twisted his fingers in his shirt.

"Yeah, Nev," Harry said, fighting a yawn.

"Did you-- Are you mad at me?"

Harry sighed and walked to the couch, gesturing for Neville to follow. After both boys took a seat Harry laid his hand on Neville's shoulder.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm more worried that you might be mad at me."

Neville looked up at him with shock in his eyes. "Why would you worry about that?"

"Because I know I said something rather insensitive." Neville looked confused so Harry went on. "You had an awful nightmare and I wasn't much help. I'm sorry. I had something else in my mind and I wasn't really thinking…" Harry trailed off. The whole 'not thinking' thing was a big problem for him this morning.

Neville didn't say anything, returning his gaze to the now-wrinkled hem of his shirt, and Harry let himself drift. His chest felt heavy and empty at the same time, and for some reason he couldn't get Draco's face out of his memory. He was so worried that the blond might cry or yell at him or something that he said the first thing that came to mind, and now he could barely remember what that was, only that he had somehow managed to chase Draco away.

Harry felt a firm pressure against his stomach and when he looked down he saw that Neville had pressed his head into Harry's abdomen, wrapping his thin arms around Harry's torso.

Harry wrapped an arm around Neville's torso, ruffling the thick born hair with his other hand. "What's this then? Am I forgiven?"

He felt Neville shake his head. The boy's voice was muffled as he said, "There's no forgiving. You felt bad. My Gran never feels bad and she makes me angry all the time but she never says sorry."

Harry heard a soft gasp and looked up to see an elderly woman standing in their open doorway. He didn't recognise her, but the giant vulture that perched on her hat and glared threateningly down on the room was very familiar.

Harry watched the older woman's eyes moisten and he hurriedly nudged Neville up.

The boy resisted at first, then grudgingly sat up, jamming an elbow into Harry's stomach as he did.

When Neville caught sight of the woman he froze. Harry moved off of the couch and stood. "Mrs. Longbottom, I'm so pleased to meet you. Neville's told us such good thin--"

"I know exactly what my grandson's told you, Mr. Potter. And I must say I'm not surprised."

He voice was even and cool and Harry turned helplessly to see Neville spring up from the couch and dart into his room.

The woman's rigid posture seemed to sag. Harry reached out to help her to a seat, but she waved him away.

"Never mind, boy. I may be old but I'm not some doddering old biddy, not yet." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. After a few moments she opened them again and seemed to regain her stature, setting a piercing glare on Harry. "Now, I'm to understand that you and some Slytherin boy are caring for my Neville?"

Harry nodded, unsure what the woman was aiming at.

The elderly witch looked around the suite, her eyes sharp as they tracked over every nook and cranny and dust bunny, before settling on Harry again.

"My grandson was very difficult at this age, Mr. Potter. When he was very young he remembered nothing of his parents, his memories of them just weak impressions. But as he grew older the memories gained context, definition, and after some schoolyard teasing led to research through old issues of the Daily Prophet he found out what really happened."

Harry winced. He new how hard it was to learn that your parents had been murdered by some monster, but at least he was eleven when he found out. Neville had been only six, and the Daily Prophet was in no way known for its tact and discretion.

"Is that where his temper came from, ma'am?"

The witch nodded sharply. "I'm afraid the Longbottom blood does run to a bit of a temper."

Harry felt a phantom pang from the first time Neville knocked him unconscious and he smiled grimly. The 'Longbottom Temper' indeed.

"Do you want to take him home with you," Harry asked, not sure what answer he was hoping for.

The witch stared off into the corners again, then looked down at the floor.

"I can't. I almost wish I could, especially after what he said before he left the room. But I'm too old for child his age." She smiled weakly. "I was always too old. But there was no one else. Mr. Potter," she said, looking up into his eyes, "Take good care of my grandson. The summer of his sixth year was a very tumultuous time and it had a great deal of bearing in the way he grew up."

"I should be very displeased," she continued, poking Harry in the chest with the handle of her umbrella, "If you do something to muck it up."

With that she turned to leave the room, but before she left, she said, "Take very good care of my baby, Harry. I want him to be happy."

Harry nodded and watched the door swing closed behind her.

When she was gone everything was silent again and Harry was tempted to go back to bed until his head stopped spinning, but there were now two very upset boys in the rooms apart from him and he didn't feel right leaving them alone.

He walked towards Neville's room, pausing outside Draco's doorway. He couldn't see the blond from there, but he knew he was inside somewhere. Harry moved on to Neville's room and found the boy in his bed, asleep. He was curled into a ball but Harry could make out light tear tracks on the chubby cheeks. He sat on the mattress next to Neville and rubbed his back lightly before stretching out.

"Sorry Nev. Things just keep getting tougher and I have no idea what I'm doing. But your Gran said to take care of you, so I will . And I'll take care of Draco as well. We'll all be fine, I know it."

He continued to mumble under his breath as the softness of the mattress and the heat of Neville's body beside him began to sink into his bones.

At one point he thought he felt a warm kiss pressed to his forehead as a blanket was laid over his body, but that could just as well have been a dream.

A voice softly whispered, "Idiot Potter," as Harry drifted into the dark well of sleep.

(_12345_)

**Note: **Don't you just feel terrible for all of them? I know I do, and I wrote this. This chapter was a bit slow, no real big events, but they'll come in their own time, don't worry about it.

Now, review. That was in no way a request, it was an order. I command you with all the power I possess as a fan fiction writer and cog in a large corporate machine. (Yeah, it isn't much but it's all I got.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world and any behavior I may impose on them are purely the construct of my sick, sick imagination.

Shame on me. Shame.

(_12345_)

**CHAPTER 18**

Harry woke up a few hours later. It took a few minutes for him to remember where he was. The warm lump that was a sleeping Neville was gone. He pushed away the blanket that was lying across his torso and moved to the window.

Outside the sun was shining bright down on the green fields around Hogwarts and over that the sky was a beautiful deep blue.

Harry took a deep breath and smoothed down his pajama shirt, rearranging his robe and tying the soft belt round his waist.

He walked towards the door, tentative plans to find Draco and Neville and try to cheer them up, when he took in the sight before him and his jaw dropped.

The furniture of their combined dining and sitting room had been pushed to the walls, leaving the floor bare and in the middle of the space sat Draco Malfoy and Neville Longbottom in lotus position, their eyes closed.

Harry could hear music playing quietly, and the air smelled herbal and sweet.

Not sure what to do Harry stayed where he was, in the doorway of Neville's room. He still felt tired, despite the nap he took and the music was very soothing. Eventually his eyes drooped and he couldn't swallow a loud, groaning yawn.

At the sound Draco's eyes snapped open. The blond turned and saw Harry in the doorway.

Harry froze, not sure how the Slytherin would respond to him after the proposal, but the blond just smiled and stood up slowly.

Harry tried to look away, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of the long lithe form of the blond, clad in some kind of loose trousers with a tank top that exposed those lovely golden freckles.

After the blond took a leisurely stretch, he moved over to the little boy. "Come on, Neville. You can stand up now."

The boy didn't respond and Harry saw the blond lean down to shake Neville's shoulder a bit to get his attention.

Both Harry and Draco startled as the boy let out a snort and opened his eyes, exposing bleary brown orbs.

Neville yawned. "Are we done? Did I do it?"

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as the lovely and dignified pureblood Slytherin Draco Malfoy giggled.

Giggled.

"I can't believe you fell asleep during meditation, Nevs," the blond said, helping the drowsy little boy to his feet.

"Couldn't help it, Draco. You said to empty my mind and the sleep just fell in."

Harry couldn't bite back a small laugh at that.

Two sets of eyes, one grey and one brown focused on him and Harry fought back the urge to reach up and straighten out his unruly hair or check his face for drool trails or something.

Neville smiled and walked over. "Harry, did you know you talk in your sleep?"

Harry froze at that. He didn't remember having any nightmares, but he couldn't be sure and he knew for a fact that Neville wouldn't be able to handle some of the things that haunted his nights.

The little boy grinned. "So, you want to kiss Draco?"

Harry had opened his mouth to deny anything Neville might say, or a least try to explain it away, but when the little boy said this he choked on his own words and it took several seconds for him to get his breath back.

When he was back in control he looked up to see Draco, a pale blush in his cheeks, punch Neville in the shoulder lightly. The little boy pouted and rubbed his arm as Draco looked up. "I'm sorry. You didn't say anything, he's just making that up."

By this time Harry had most of his breath back and he decided the best course of action would be to pretend that the last few seconds hadn't happened. "So, you two are meditating?"

Neville's pout turned into a scowl. "Draco thinks it will help with my temper. I don't have temper though, do I Harry?" the scowl had turned itself into a sparklingly innocent smile and Neville had even managed that eye twinkle Dumbledore sported, but Harry and his numerous concussions at the little boys hands knew better.

Still, he valued his life. "No, no temper at all."

Harry shared a conspiratorial look with Draco. When Neville looked up to Draco the blond only nodded. "Of course. I don't know where I got the idea that you might have a temper from." Draco knelt down on the floor until he was eye level with the little brunet. "It certainly can't be from that time you were swearing at Madame Pomphrey. Or when you were throwing vases around our apartment, or how about--" Draco trailed off and leaned in, his clawed fingers attacked Neville's sides and startling a screaming laugh out of the little boy.

Harry could only look on as Draco drove Neville to the floor, tickling him fiercely while Neville shrieked and laughed and generally looked like he was having the time of his life.

"Okay, I give. I give," the boy panted. "I have a temper. You were right."

Draco paused for a moment, his hands poised over Neville in prime tickling position. "Can you repeat that?"

Neville smirked, then grinned as Draco's fingers got closer to his sensitive ribs. "You were right! You were right!"

Draco froze, pinning the little boy to the floor as he looked up at Harry.

Harry saw mirth in the grey eyes as the Slytherin said, "What do you think, Potter? Do you believe him?"

Harry pressed his finger to his chin and half closed his eyes in a thinking pose, trying not to grin at the half-laughing, half-begging look Neville was shooting him.

After a few seconds, he nodded. "I believe him. Young Neville has always struck me as the trustworthy and honest type," he said in his most pompous tone.

Draco grinned and let Nevile squirm away. When the little boy was well out of tickling range Harry stepped forward and offered Draco his hand.

The blond just stared at it for a moment, his smile fading.

Harry was frozen by the awkwardness of the moment and he was on the verge of pulling his hand back when he felt the soft cool pressure of Draco's fingers on his. He looked down and saw that the blond had accepted his help and was even now rising from the floor. Harry didn't let go, using his greater weight to provide support. When Draco was standing they didn't break apart, and instead stood there, hands clasped, both looking down at the floor and blushing.

"Are you two done yet? I'm hungry."

Neville's voice broke the moment and Harry quickly released Draco's hand, moving a few steps away.

Harry fidgeted for a moment. "I think I'm going to take a shower first, if you don't mind. I feel like I've been in the same clothes for days."

Neville shrugged and dragged Draco towards their kitchenette, prattling on about what he wanted for dinner and whether the House Elves could make fast food.

Harry wrapped his robe tighter around his waist and went into the bathroom. When he closed the door, absently thanking all the mercies of the universe that they had kept the bathroom door in the first place, he leaned heavily against the heavy wooden thing.

He had touched Draco Malfoy.

There was no fight, there was no arguing. The blond wasn't sick, and he hadn't even really needed Harry's help, but Draco had accepted his hand and in that moment their skin touched Harry felt a strange electrical surge that even now seemed to tremble in his bones.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them again before standing upright and walking towards the shower, discarding his wrinkled and grass-stained robe and pajamas as he went.

Harry threw on the cold water first and ducked his head under it, letting the fierce cold wash away the last dregs of sleep and confusion. Then he turned the knobs to warm and grabbed the first bottle of shampoo he could find, absently enjoying the sweet almond scent as he lathered up his hair.

He proceed with his washing while he let his mind wander.

His first plan to save Draco had failed. But that didn't mean he was going to give up. As a Gryffindor and as a Potter, quitting was not in his blood. Either he would get Draco to change his mind or he would think of something else, because of course there had to be something else.

When the last of the soap had disappeared down the drain, Harry lingered in the shower, enjoying the sensation of warm water running don his back and shoulders.

The worst of the trembling had faded, but his hand still felt tingly where it had touched Draco's and embarrassed though he knew no one could see him, he brought it to his lips--

"Oh! I'm sorry-- I mean, I thought you would be done, but of course the bath is still running so I should have known better. But the door wasn't locked and I-- here are your clothes Potter. I'm just going to-- I'm just going."

Harry, startled by the sudden interruption of Draco's voice, took a step towards the door and felt his feet half slip out from under him.

He managed to regain his balance, grabbing onto the wall-mounted soap dish, but by the time he was completely upright again, Draco was gone.

Harry turned off the water and stepped out of the bath, studiously avoiding a glimpse of the mirror and the violent flush he was sure he would see.

On top of the laundry hamper were a pair of denims and his favorite tee shirt, with a pair of boxers and a fresh towel. Harry dried his body quickly and pulled on his clothes, knowing this was the exact wrong time to go stomping out into the apartment with his towel around his waist. When the worst of the dampness was gone he threw on his clothes, trying to ignore the way his jeans stuck around his legs and his shirt clung to his chest.

With a cursory finger combing of his hair he put on his glasses and opened the door.

When he walked out into the living room he saw that the furniture had been replaced and Neville was perched on the couch, swinging his feet against the side and eating a thick sandwich.

Draco was nowhere in sight.

"Where did he go," Harry asked the little boy.

"Dunno. He brought your clothes, then he had to go to the loo. I think he ate something funny, he was in a terrible hurry and he was walking a bit funny, all hunched over-like."

Harry froze, remembering a dreamlike kiss, then smiled. If the blond was interested, Plan A still had a chance.

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**Note: **What do you think? Good? We're making a little progress, yeah?

Okay, review.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I make no money from this. I make no money from any of my writing, which is a shame because I write a lot and if I got a nickel per word I would be rolling in it. Nickels I mean. Though, on second thought that doesn't sound very comfortable. It brings to mind a conversation I had with my siblings about swimming around in Scrooge McDuck's money vault from the old DuckTales cartoons.

I do not own Scrooge McDuck's money vault.

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**CHAPTER 19**

Fifteen minutes later the blond was back. Harry looked up to ask if he was okay, but reconsidered when he saw the other boy's flushed cheeks and the light sheen of sweat across his forehead, guessing at their cause and barely restraining a blush of his own.

As they ate their lunch Harry let Neville lead the discussion of what to do for the rest of the day, which was really just the next few hours of the afternoon, various dramas and naps and meditation practice having eaten up the entire morning.

It wasn't until Neville demanded they all go exploring again that Draco finally spoke up.

"I'm going to stay here, actually. I'm feeling a bit tired right now."

Harry looked up from his beef and chutney sandwich to see that the pink blush had darkened into something more violent and the sheen of sweat had become large droplets trickling down form the Slytherin's hairline.

Neville seemed to notice at the same time.

"Are you okay? You're sick again? Me and Harry can make you better, can't we?" Neville looked at Harry for reassurance, but he could only focus on the blond who now seemed to be swaying in his seat.

"Draco? Draco, what's going on," Harry said, standing up and walking over to the Slytherin.

"I'm sick, you git," Draco mumbled, before his eyes slid shut and he leaned heavily to the side, unconscious, his head pressing against Harry's abdomen.

Harry felt the blond's forehead. It was hot, but not as hot as it had been on that one horrible night a few weeks ago.

Neville's little face was pinched and white. "Is he okay? Is he going to die?"

Harry kept his voice steady and calm. "No, he's fine. Probably just needs some rest, like he said. Let's get him into bed, shall we?" Saying so, he gingerly adjusted Draco into a better position, then picked him up and carried the sleeping blond to his bedroom.

"I'll turn down the sheets," Neville said, before hurrying forward to do just that.

When the bed was cleared Harry moved forward and set the blond on the mattress, easing his arms and legs under the blanket. Draco shifted a bit as Neville circled him, tucking the coverlet up under his chin and smoothing out any wrinkles in the fabric, but didn't wake.

With nothing left to do Harry set his hand on Neville's shoulder and guided him out of the room.

They walked to the couch in silence, ignoring the House Elf cleaning away the leftovers of their half-eaten lunches.

Neville threw himself onto the over-stuffed piece of furniture and Harry sat heavily beside him.

After a few moments Neville wrapped himself around Harry's torso, the way he had only a few hours before. Harry turned on the telly, but kept it low, and they watched some animated fairy tale movie from the stack Dumbledore had provided.

Harry watched the dancing mice and the singing birds and tried to relax into the moment, but his thought were consumed with worry. They had gone for two weeks without any trace of a fever or dizziness that Harry could see. While there was a chance Draco was hiding his symptoms, Harry couldn't be sure.

Still this fever was a blatant reminder that the Slytherin was sick, dying, and so far Harry was a complete failure at savings his life.

He resolved to step up his efforts when Draco awoke, maybe even drafting Nevil—

"He's dying," the little boy said, interrupting his thoughts. Harry rubbed Neville's back softly and murmured, "Not if I can help it."

When the movie was over neither Harry nor Neville moved to turn off the telly, just sat on the couch and stared at the blue screen as the day aged.

"What are you two lumps doing," asked a drawling voice and Harry looked up to see Draco standing in the doorway of his bedroom, hair tousled and clothes wrinkled, but his eyes clear and bright.

Neville threw himself out of Harry's lap and lunged at the blond, only a quick effort by Harry to catch the hem of his tee-shirt to keep him from making contact.

"Easy there Nev. He isn't feeling well, remember?"

The boy nodded, shamefaced, but Draco crouched down on the floor. "Now, now. I know you won't hurt me." Draco looked up at Harry, silver grey eyes serious, "Let him go."

Harry did and Neville moved towards the blond at a fraction of the speed he had used earlier.

When the little boy reached him Neville stood there, hands frozen at his sides.

Harry watched as Draco raised his arms and wrapped them around Neville's shoulders. Only then did the little boy hug the other tightly around the waist and bury his face in the blond's shirt.

Draco pressed a kiss against the boy's head before looking up at Harry again.

In that look was the realization that the blond was dying and that it would break Neville's heart and there was nothing they could do.

But Harry disagreed.

After a few moments Draco released Neville and stood up again. Still leaning against the doorway, he looked at Harry and said, "I've heard of this muggle game called footie. Do you think our Neville would be good at it? Lots of running about, I believe."

Neville looked from Draco to Harry with a light in his eyes. The little boy loved games, mggle or wizarding, and he always wanted to learn something new, especially if it involved running around.

Harry nodded, accepting the diversion for what it was and let Neville drag him down to the Quidditch pitch. He grabbed a quaffle from the storage shed and transfigured it into a football, quickly explaining the rule of the game.

After a few hours of running back and forth across the field with Neville, Harry was exhausted and the little boy was asleep on his feet, too tired for dinner or anything else. Harry cast a lightening charm on Neville and carried him back to their rooms.

When he arrived there he saw Draco sitting on the couch and reading. The blond smiled up at him and Harry smiled back before carrying Neville into his room. The little brunet was sweaty and dirty from playing, but he was also deep asleep and despite the fact that his behavior was getting better Harry still didn't want to risk waking him up. There would be time enough for a bath in the morning.

He walked back out into the main room, yawning, to see Draco stand up from the couch and start moving towards his room.

"Where are you going," Harry asked.

"To bed," Draco replied. "I'm tired still."

"You know, if you married me we could cure this," Harry offered softly.

Draco stepped towards Harry and took his hand, much as he had done earlier that day. Looking up, he met Harry's eyes and said, "Do you love me?"

Harry froze. "I don't-- I mean--"

"I didn't think so. My answer is no, Harry." With that he blond let go and walked into his room.

Harry shook his head to wake up a bit and made his way to Snape's lab.

When he got there he pushed the door open and stormed in, taking a seat at the table without looking to see what the professor was doing.

"Is something the matter," Severus asked.

"Yes," Harry said. "He won't marry me."

"Did you really expect him to?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. Had he honestly expected and sort of positive answer from the blond? They were barely friends, and while there was an attraction there was no real indication of warmer feelings.

Harry sighed. "He said he won't marry for pity." Harry heard another of the tall stool screech across the floor as the professor took a seat.

"Well, I suppose I understand. If there are feelings there on his part, the idea that an eternal bond would be based solely on the fact that you feel sorry for him--"

"I don't feel sorry for him," Harry said, all but shouting in he otherwise silent room. "I feel sorry for his situation, but not for him. I want him to live, not just because he's sick, as though I would do this for anyone, but because he's…"

Harry trailed off and Severus said, "He's?"

"He's special, I suppose. Oh, I don't know," Harry said, burying his face in his hands.

The room was quiet, then Severus said, "Well, if you feel his way, then you need to do something."

"Like what," Harry asked.

"I am not giving you romantic advice, Potter. There are some lines I will not cross, and helping you seduce my godson is very high on that list."

"Severus, if you don't hep me and I don't marry him he is going to die," Harry said flatly. It wasn't as though he even wanted advice from the professor. But there was no one else on Earth who knew the blond well enough.

Snape sighed. "Very well. Let's see.. He likes chocolate, and flying, and reading, though I suppose you know all of that already."

Harry nodded, he'd caught the blond half-dozing over many a novel with a half-empty box of truffles at his side. How the blond wasn't immense, Harry would never know..

"I'm not sure what can help you, Potter. I hardly know what constitutes a 'perfect date' in Draco's eyes."

"Look, just remind yourself that this is the only way to keep him alive. Tell yourself, 'I don't care what I have to do to get him to marry me. It's not about love, or affection or even friendship. None of those things exist. None of those things matter. It's only about keeping him alive.'"

"Really?"

Harry looked up at the professor, but the man hadn't spoken. Instead he was standing in the doorway in horror. Harry followed his gaze and saw an ashen Draco standing frozen in the hall, his hand still poised to knock on the door.

When Harry met his eyes the blond whirled and ran.

Harry stood up to follow him, but Snape gripped his sleeve. "Stop. There's nothing you can do."

"But it wasn't true. It's not how I feel," Harry said quickly, tugging at the fabric still gripped in long potion-stained fingers.

"No. He heard what he heard. If you go running to him now with excuses and explanations he will only think you a liar. Malfoys are very sensitive about betrayal."

Harry slumped, the exhaustion he felt earlier now rushing over him in a wave and tears burning in his eyes. "I didn't betray him."

"I know you didn't," Severus said, releasing Harry's sleeve to awkwardly pat his shoulder. "But it doesn't matter what I think."

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**Note: **For some reason this week is the angst week. And my intentions going in was for these updates to be lighthearted and romantic. If any of you are reading MY ANGEL as well you will notice that I ended the latest chapter with the same conceit. Just goes to show that eavesdroppers never hear anything good about themselves. And now that I've passed on that bit of wisdom, I am off to bed.

Review. Do it. Not kidding. I hold these characters lives in my hands you know. Someone could get crushed to death by a runaway monster truck at any point. And then where will we be, hm?


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I just had an idea and I decided to run with it for a while.

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**CHAPTER 20**

Harry woke up on a couch in a very dark room. His memories of the previous night were muddy, but they became clear quickly, too quickly and suddenly he remembered Draco and the second rejected proposal and his escape to Snape's lab for help and then what he said, what Draco heard, and how it was all so wrong--

"Awake, Potter?"

Harry looked up into Snape's eyes. The man was holding two large and steaming mugs of tea and as Harry took one he looked around he room he was in.

It looked familiar, in an unfamiliar way. Stone walls, stone floor dotted here and there with small rugs. Dark furniture scattered around the space, some chairs by a large fire, a low table, and the couch he was sitting on, all in shades of dark green.

"Am I in your quarters, sir," Harry asked.

The professor nodded, before taking a seat in a wingback chair next to the couch. "You fell asleep in my lab last night and I had one of the house elves bring you here to rest. Thought it might be better than returning to your quarters, given Draco's reaction."

Harry pictured the look of betrayal and sorrow in those grey eyes and nodded. "Yeah, probably for the best then. But I have to go back eventually." He looked up at the professor and said, "What do I do?"

Snape took a long drink of his tea and stared into the fire before turning to Harry. "I believe the first thing you must do is pretend all of this didn't happen."

"What? But I--"

Snape cut Harry off with a wave of his hand. "No. My godson does not take easily to deceit and this is how he sees the events of last night. But, if I know him he is more concerned with Longbottom's well-being at this time so when you return to your quarters he will be civil and even cordial when the boy is around. He will be cold to you in private, but that is something you will have to deal with."

"And how do I do that," Harry asked.

Severus sighed, rubbing his eyes before looking up at Harry. "I dread saying this, but you… You have to romance him, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth, but Snape waved him into silence. "No. I know you have some sort of feelings for him. Even if you're not in love with him, your reactions last night would have told me that. So now you need to prove to him that you actually do care. He believes that you have lied about any feelings you might have expressed so now you have to rely on the old adage, 'actions speak louder than words.'"

Harry nodded, then stood, setting his mug on the coffee table. "I can do that. I'm good at actions."

Severus rose from his chair. "This will be difficult, and there are no guarantees that my godson will accept you so I will find an alternative somewhere. I have heard rumors of the rest of the Malfoy family. I will follow up on those." The man stepped towards Harry, setting a hand on his shoulder. "We are going to save his life, Potter."

Harry placed a hand over Severus's briefly, sharing the warmth and hope that the man had instilled in him, then he stepped away and headed for the door. He had a lot of work to do, but he knew where he could get help.

When he returned to their rooms everything was quiet. Neville was sitting at the table eating toast and Draco was nowhere in sight.

As Harry came into the room the little boy started up from his seat and ran for the door. "What's going on? Draco won't get out of bed. I tried to get him up but he just rolled over. Is he sick again?"

Harry knelt down and wrapped his arms around the little boy. "He's not sick. He's just-- he's mad at me, and with good reason. I did something very stupid last night, but I want to make it better. Will you help me?"

Neville leaned out of the hug. "I knew you'd do something stupid. Draco warned me about that, he said it was what Gryffindors did best. But I'll help you. I bet you'll need it too."

The spark of mischief returned to the little boy's eyes and Harry fought back a shudder as he stood back up.

"He's still in bed, right?" The little boy nodded. "Okay, I'm going to go say good morning, you eat your breakfast."

Neville nodded and ran back to the table and Harry walked to Draco's room. He stood in the doorway watching the blanket covered lump shift before he stepped in.

"Draco? Are you awake?"

The blond didn't respond, just shifted again, rolling away from Harry. It looked as though the blond was pretending to be asleep, but that would work with Harry's plan to convince the boy that his feelings were legitimate. The brunet walked towards the bed, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

Slowly he laid his hand on Draco's back, feeling the other boy tense under the pressure.

"I'm not very good at emotional things, am I," Harry said softly.

He felt Draco moving but the blond stayed silent.

"I wish you were awake so I could talk to you," Harry said. "I'm not sure what I would say, but I like talking to you, I suppose."

Harry sighed, then leaned over the boy. Draco's face was relaxed and peaceful. If Harry didn't know better he would swear the other boy was actually asleep. Harry pressed his lips to Draco's temple, just one soft and sweet kiss, then he got up and walked out of the room, hoping that the seed he planted would bear fruit and brushing his fingers over his lips.

He walked to the table and joined Neville at breakfast.

The little boy winked at him and Harry bit back a snort. This was a tentative time and if Draco got the idea that this was a game or a ploy to make him agree to marriage it would all be over. And Harry didn't want it to be over.

A half hour later Harry and Neville were done with breakfast and had retreated to an empty patch of floor with a jigsaw puzzle. It was a picture of the blue sky filled with balloons. The frame was almost complete and Neville was making significant inroads on the upper left corner when Draco walked out of his room. Harry motioned for the little boy not to react. Draco looked distracted and Harry hoped that the blond was rethinking what he had heard in Snape's lab the previous night.

Draco moved over to the table and poured himself a cup of tea before bringing it to the chair close to where Harry and Neville were working.

"How are you two doing," he asked.

Harry smiled as Neville began explaining the process of constructing a jigsaw puzzle, holding up various pieces to explain he complexities of the shapes and design. Draco smiled and nodded along and Harry kept his attention on the puzzle, trying not to look up at the blond too often.

After a little while Neville was shifting around in place and Harry recognized the signs of boredom in the little boy. Standing, he stretched, making sure he turned towards Draco as his shirt rode up and exposed some of his stomach. He knew the blond was attracted to him physically, that had been abundantly apparent and completely reciprocated, so capitalizing on that could only help.

After the luxurious stretch, Harry looked down at Neville. "Time to fly? Or football again today?"

The little boy chewed his lip for a minute before turning to Draco. "Will you play football with us?"

Draco shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not up to it today, but you two have fun."

The little boy pouted and Harry stepped in. "How about if we bring along a picnic basket and a blanket? Neville wants to play and you can join us without over-exerting yourself. Plus," Harry said, eyeing Neville, "We need an impartial referee. That means he's not on either side so he can judge fairly."

Neville scowled. "Draco is not impar--what you said. He's on my side." And with that the little boy stomped forward and grabbed Draco's hand, dragging the now-laughing blond to the door.

Harry followed behind after calling for a House Elf to prep a picnic basket.

Fifteen minutes later he joined the other two on the Quidditch pitch. Neville was already out on the grass kicking the ball back and forth but Draco stood on a small hillock, his arms wrapped around his chest.

As Harry got closer he set the basket down on the grass and unfolded the blanket he brought to wrap it around the blond's shoulders.

Draco started at the motion, turning to look at Harry.

"Sorry. You looked cold," Harry offered, letting go of the blanket.

Harry saw Draco's fingers come up to grab the fabric and admired their delicacy against the royal blue material.

Then he took a deep breath, time to get to work.

"So you're going to stay here and referee," he said to get the blond's attention.

When Draco turned to look at him, Harry pulled off his shirt.

It was a bit of a cheap shot, but there was something very satisfying in watching the blond's eyes widen.

Smiling at Draco, Harry jogged past him onto the grass. "Ready to start Neville?"

Harry and Neville played for about an hour before the little boy got tired. Harry tried to look over at Draco while they were playing, but somehow the blond had smuggled along a book and kept his face buried in it the entire time.

As they trudged over to where the blond was sitting on the spread out blanket with the picnic basket at his side, Harry decided to up the tension a bit. He threw himself on the blanket next to Draco, close enough that the blond couldn't ignore his presence, but not close enough to be obvious.

Neville looked confused for a minute, before winking at Harry and taking a sandwich out of the basket.

"I'm going to go feed the Squid", the little boy announced before standing up and running off to the edge of the lake.

Draco moved as if to follow Neville, but Harry grabbed the edge of the blond's shirt and pulled him back down.

"Leave him be. There are wards on the lake so he won't fall in and Hogwarts is a safe place."

Draco looked off in the direction Neville had run. "You don't know what can happen, Potter."

Harry sighed and moved away a bit. "So we're back to last names now, are we Malfoy?"

Harry saw the blond's shoulders hunch up before Draco turned back to him.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me. In fact, I've been rude all day. Look, about last night--"

"We don't have to talk about it," Harry said, surprised the blond would bring it up after what Snape said.

"No, I think for Neville's good we should discuss this. It's certainly no surprise that your plan is to convince me to marry you, and indeed I appreciate the gesture more than you know, but as I have said before, I will not marry where there is no feeling, whether my life is on the line or no."

The Slytherin looked down at the book on his lap, then looked up at Harry. "I have to ask you something, and I need for you to agree."

Harry was shocked and distressed to see tears building in the depths of Draco's eyes. He took the blond's hand and held the thin and cold fingers in his own as he said, "Anything. Whatever you need."

Draco pulled his hand way. "I need you to stop."

"Stop? Stop what? I don't understand," Harry said.

"I need you to stop pretending, Potter," Draco said, his words coming out sharp and harsh. The blond seemed as startled by his tone as Harry was and quickly looked away.

Harry was surprised to feel a lump building in his throat. "I'm not pretending, Draco. I care for you and I definitely want you, and I--"

The blond snorted. "Face it Potter. You wouldn't even know I was alive if I weren't dying and you expect me to believe that you somehow care about me--"

Harry cut off the stream of tear-filled accusations the only way he knew how.

He kissed him.

It wasn't a proper kiss, or not really, or not as far as Harry knew. Draco's lips were stiff and dry against his and the blond was adamantly fighting to keep them closed tight as he tried to push Harry away.

But Harry knew this might be his only chance to convince Draco to marry him, his only chance to convince Draco that he cared, that he lov--

"What are you two doing?"

It was Neville and with the distraction Draco pushed Harry away and rose, flushed and panting, to his feet.

"I'm going to go back in, I'll see you two later," the blond said before turning and walking back to the castle.

Harry fell back on the grass, squinting against the sunlight overhead.

"What did I say?" Neville asked and Harry couldn't fight back the laugh that escaped him, even if it held more than a hint of a frustrated sob.

"Nothing, Nevs. Never mind." Harry sat up slowly, looking for is shirt.

He found it, neatly folded, next to the picnic basket, held in place from the eddying breeze by the weight of the blond's book, abandoned in his rush to escape.

Neville plopped himself down on the blanket and grabbed another sandwich, staring at Harry curiously. "What are you doing?" Neville asked before taking a bite of egg and cress.

"I'm thinking," Harry replied as he unfolded his shirt and put it on, then studied the book. The tile, embossed on the thick leather cover was 'The Decameron,' but when he opened it the vellum pages were covered with foreign writing that Harry couldn't translate. It didn't look like any language he knew. He tucked the book into the basket and grabbed a sandwich for himself, feeling hungry all of a sudden.

The only sounds to be heard on the picnic were chewing and the occasional slurp from tall bottles of lemonade that the House Eves had provided.

Eventually both boys did justice to the meal and the only thing left were breadcrumbs.

Harry went back to lying on the grass and shifted slightly when he felt Neville lie down at his side.

"You were kissing Draco," Neville said flatly.

"Yeah. But it didn't go very well, did it?"

The little boy said, "But he does like you, I think. He goes all pink when he talks about you."

"He does," Harry said.

"Yup," Neville replied. "Do you like him back?"

"I do actually," Harry said.

"So, what can I do to help," the little boy asked.

Harry turned to look at him and stilled when he saw little Neville's serious expression. He knew his friend well enough, adult and child, to know that Neville would insist on helping.

"I'll think about it, okay?"

The little boy nodded. "But you'd better think fast. He seemed really mad at you and he's so-- he's sick, so..."

Harry heard the little boy sniffle and reached out to pull the small body closer to his own. Together they lay in the patch of sunshine as the morning passed into afternoon.

The next few days proceeded in a very delicate siege on Draco's heart. Harry was armed with a long list of the Slytherin's favorite foods, books, activities, and he wasn't going to let any chance to prove himself and his feelings pass him by.

Neville was actually a great help. He could be persuaded to nag until Draco agreed to go outside, at which time Harry would surprise the blond with another picnic basket full of his favorite treats. Or Neville would get 'tired' early and leave Harry and Draco alone to sit on the couch and talk until one or the other of them fell asleep.

Draco made it very clear that he knew what they were doing, but during the daylight hours with Neville as their companion he smiled and went along with it. And at night when Harry and Draco were alone, the Slytherin was not at all shy about giving Harry a piece of his mind. As the nights passed their time together changed from harshly whispered arguments to quiet conversation and on more than one occasion Harry woke up on the couch with Draco sleeping at his side.

Harry couldn't be sure how Draco felt, but he knew his feelings grew stronger the more time he spent with, or just around, the other boy.

Throughout the day he made a point of looking at Draco and talking to him, touching him casually.

One night Harry felt the stars were aligned in his favor and he tried the kiss again. It started out as awkwardly as the first had with Draco stiff and resisting in his arms, but Harry was patient and kept the pressure light and gentle.

Eventually Draco relaxed in his arms and, to Harry's delight, began to kiss back. The blond's lips parted and Harry gasped at this new intimacy.

After spending so much time with the blond Harry felt fairly certain that his liking for the blond had moved to a more serious place, but this is where a germ of doubt entered his mind. He knew that Draco was interested in him, that was obvious. But was there anything more than that?

Harry was getting periodic reports from Snape. According to the professor the Malfoy family were hiding out in Denmark. It was hard to picture the powerful and dignified Malfoys in the land of windmills and wooden shoes, but Snape was making plans to contact them and see exactly how loyal they were to their Dark Lord, and how loyal they were to their son.

Draco's health was getting worse and as the days went on Harry spent a lot of time by Draco's bed, reading to the blond from various books or just telling him stories. Neville spent his share of time with the Slytherin as well. Harry tried not to intrude on their time together, but every time Neville left the blond's room he looked a little sadder and a little more tired.

Finally, Harry had enough. he knew his heart and his feelings and he absolutely knew Neville couldn't stand another night of watching someone he cared about die.

For that matter Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could stand it himself.

"Draco, will you marry me?"

The blond sighed and turned away. "I don't know why you're asking me again. I told you how I felt, I can't marry someone for pity."

"Is that all it is," Harry asked.

Draco turned back. "What?"

"Pity? I mean, I don't pity you anymore, it's just that I don't want you to die. And I think you understand that so you know this isn't out of pity or my having to save everyone around me, so what is it? Why won't you marry me?"

The blond opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking down into his blanket covered lap.

Harry went on, "I know how I feel, Draco. And I think you know it too." The blond looked up but Harry motioned him into silence, "The issue now are your feelings. Do you love me?"

A pale pink blush rose on the blond's face he looked away but not before Harry saw a shining trail on his cheeks.

This was it then. Harry was in love with Draco, but it appeared that the blond didn't feel the same.

Harry took a deep breath, pushing the heaviness in his chest away. "Will you marry me? To save your own life and protect Neville from another broken heart?"

Draco's face was still turned away, but Harry saw him shake his head. The blond's voice was choked with tears as he said, "Now you're cheating, Potter."

Unable to stay there any longer Harry rose from his chair and walked out of the room, keeping his tears at bay until he was past the threshold of his own bedroom where they could fall and be absorbed into cool pillowcases.

The next morning he visited Severus's lab again.

"He said no and I can't argue with him this time. I put my heart on the line and Neville's as well with no result."

The potions professor looked sorrowful, "I'm sorry, Potter. I really thought you would get through to him."

Harry sighed as he took a seat at the long table. "I did too. But I should have known better, shouldn't I?" he laughed harshly before resting his chin on his crossed arms.

Severus opened his mouth to say something, then stopped as a bell rang from the back of the room.

There was a large bird perched in the high window, a white cylinder strapped to his leg. Harry watched the potions professor remove the cylinder with trembling hands. Slowly the man opened it and unrolled the scroll within and as he walked back to where Harry sat wit ha new and hopeful light in his eyes.

"I've found Narcissa Malfoy and she has agreed to help us. He will live."

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**Note: **Aw, aren't you proud of me? He's not going to die! His mom will save his life! Wahoo! The story could totally end here and be largely unsatisfactory, but at least it would be finished.

Except this isn't the end.

See you next week with another exciting chapter full of adventure and intrigue. And with my lovely beta DerSaboteur at my side, I feel very good about it.

Review. You know you want to. Well, you know I want you to and at this point in our relationship, isn't that enough?


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. But I do have a new flat iron that I am cautiously enthused about.

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**CHAPTER 21**

There was a storm coming. The sky was blue and clear but Harry could feel the air pressing against his head, as he stood in the Astronomy Tower . Snape's letter confirmed that Narcissa was going to be in London that night, but they would have a very narrow window to get her and bring her back to Hogwarts before the other Death Eaters found out she defected.

Harry was impressed despite himself. He hadn't thought much of the haughty blond when he met her at the Quidditch World Cup, but to abandon her husband and everything she protested to believe in so she could save her son's life struck a painful and familiar chord in Harry's chest.

He vowed silently to himself that he would do whatever he could to protect the woman, for Draco's sake if not her own.

"Mr Potter, do you have your broom?"

Harry turned and saw Snape standing behind him.

"I have it, moved it to the Quidditch supply shed with the other racing brooms. I thought we could sneak out of the castle and slip away without telling anyone."

Snape raise his eyebrow. "You're not going to tell Draco?"

Harry felt his cheeks flush and looked back out the window at the bright blue sky. "No. I suppose I want to wait until we've got her back. No use in getting his hopes up."

The older man stepped closer. Joining Harry to look out the window, Snape said, "You might reconsider that. In his condition hope is a very powerful thing."

Harry turned sharply. "His condition? What happened?" The last thing the Gryffindor knew was that Draco was tired and cranky but well, or as well as he had been lately, sitting up and reading to Neville. "Has he gotten worse?"

Snape shook his head, his eyes on the horizon line in the distance. "There is no more 'better' for him now, unless we can get his mother back here."

Harry felt a cold shiver run up his back at the older man's words. He shook it off. "No. he will be fine. We'll get Narcissa here and she'll stay with him and he'll be fine." Under his breath Harry muttered, "Maybe then I'll have half a chance with him."

Harry heard Severus clear his throat and turned to face the professor.

Snape was looking away, out the window over the grounds of Hogwarts, but his words were meant for Harry alone. "I care a great deal for my godson, Potter. And I believe you care for him as well. If, after all of this, you still wish to pursue him you have my support."

Harry smiled, then followed Snape's gaze out onto the rolling green grounds of the castle.

The plan was a simple one, but a great deal of it rested in Narcissa Malfoy's hands. The woman would be responsible for getting herself from Holland to London without being seen or captured. Harry and Snape would meet her there and bring her the rest of the way to Hogwarts.

In her letter Narcissa claimed to care only for the health and safety of her son and Harry had to believe in that, he had to have faith in a mother's love. It was the only chance Draco had.

"We should go," Snape said, turning to leave the high tower room.

Harry nodded and followed.

At the edge of the grounds both men mounted their brooms and took off into the now star spangled sky. The air was cold and Harry relished the bite of it against his skin. It cleared way the cobwebs of worry and stress that descended as he watched Doaco get sicker. The only thought in his mind was the flight and getting there fast, faster. Severus seemed to have the same thought and it felt like no time had passed before they were drifting over the lights of London.

The city was alive at all hours and as they moved lower Harry could see people scurrying about below him like so many ants. Of all places Narcissa decreed they would meet at a Muggle pub so Harry and Snape landed in an alley and shrank their brooms, tucking them away in their pockets as they moved towards the pub.

The streets were cold and grey, crowded even this late at night, and passersby kept their heads down, collars up around their necks and hat brims pulled down low. Harry took a closer look at the street around him and quickly realized that this was a place where no one wanted to be seen, the perfect location for their plan.

Inside the pub the light was warm and amber. The air smelled of tobacco smoke and years of the layered perfumes and colognes of desperation.

People wandered around the room in a drunken haze, some congregating around the bar and others at small tables around the large space. A few couples swayed tiredly on the otherwise empty dance floor near an old fashioned juke box.

It as Harry's first experience in a proper bar and he wasn't impressed.

At the far end pf the bar was Narcissa Malfoy, perched on one of the high stools like a princess or a china doll. But as they moved across the floor towards her, Harry saw how tired she was.

Deep lines crossed that pale skin and dark circles rested under the grey eyes so much like Draco's.

Those eyes widened as the woman saw them and she quickly hopped off of the stool and walked towards them, leading them into a shadowed corner of the bar.

"Thank Merlin you're here. I've been waiting for hours."

"We are on schedule," Snape said. "Has something happened?"

There was no trace of tension in the man's voice, but Harry bit his tongue as the blonde woman paled even more, to a ghostly whiteness.

"I think... I think they know I've left. I told Lucius I would be shopping in Paris but I don't think he believed me…" She trailed off, her eyes getting lost in the middle distance for a moment before she came back to herself and those same eyes filled with a fiery passion. "I want to save my son. Now tell me, is he well?"

She was looking at Harry. He swallowed hard and tried to remember the blond boy as he had last seen him, trembling with exhaustion and emotion, a shaky smile held on his face by pure will as Neville read his a story from the translated Decameron they found in the school's library.

Harry could think of a hundred answers to give the woman, but only one would truly suffice.

"He is sick, and he needs you."

Narcissa nodded. "Of course he does, he is my son. Sons need their mothers, regardless of what anyone says." Her voice shook slightly, but she stood strong and again Harry felt a wave of admiration for the woman.

Harry heard arguing from the doorway, but he ignored it. If telly were truth then fights happened in bars all the time around the world.

"Fan out and search for her. I know she's here."

Harry turned sharply, seeing Snape and Narcissa do the same. Silhouetted in the doorway was

Lucius Malfoy, black robes swirling dramatically, three more Death Eaters at his side.

At the same time they spotted him, he spotted them and advanced. "Ah, my beautiful and traitorous wife. I am appalled at the company you're keeping these days."

The blond man took a step forward and Harry raised his wand, but Severus pulled him back.

"Foolish boy. This is not about a fight, we have more important objectives tonight."

Harry saw the look the dark-eyed man shot Narcissa and nodded.

Moving to the woman's side he took her arm in a firm grip. "We have to get out of here. Draco needs you."

She snatched her arm back. "I will go with you, but I see no need for you to manhandle my person."

Harry saw a thick blue ray of spell light coming in their direction and threw the woman o the ground, flinging himself down next to her. "You may not see a need for it, but if you want to live long enough to save Draco, you will learn to tolerate it."

After looking up to see Snape's status- now fighting Lucius and one of the Death Eaters, the other having shot the spell at Harry and Narciss and the third out of sight, Harry grabbed the woman's arm again and pictured the dark alleyway behind the bar.

With a sharp crack they were gone from the warm amber room and back on the cold street.

Harry let go of Narcissa and the woman immediately pulled the robe of her hood over her head, covering her distinctive white-blond hair.

Harry could see the muggle patrons of the bar running out of the building. He wanted to go in and see if Severus was all right but there was no time. He waited for a few minutes, until he was antsy and anxious, before pulling his shrunken broom from his pocket and enlarging it.

Harry hopped on, then turned to Narcissa, he offering her his hand. "Come on, we have to get out of here."

She took it and took a delicate seat on the slim wooden handle behind Harry. Harry waited there for a few more seconds, listening to the sounds of the fight inside the bar. Glass breaking, and the heavy crash of furniture against walls. He closed his eyes. Harry didn't pray, but he did take a moment to hope that the potion's master would get out of there alive before he kicked off of the ground and they were in flight.

Harry kept the broom moving at a medium speed. He wanted to give Snape the chance to catch up if—when he got away from Lucius. But when a red shaft of light hit the bristles, causing the broom to veer wildly in the air, Harry sped up without looking back.

He felt Narcissa shift in her seat and wrap her arms around his torso. The blond moved forward until her face was pressed against his neck and he could hear her voice through the screaming wind.

"I am to understand that you are a very good flier," the woman said. "I expect you to live up to my son's words about you."

Harry turned to look back at the woman, and saw past her shoulder the third Death Eater. But at the Death Eater's heels was Severus Snape, his robes flapping black against the night sky like an owl's wings.

Harry felt a thread of hope rise in his chest. He fought it down, but couldn't resist the warm feeling it brought.

They would win. They would save Draco's life.

"Potter, down!"

Snape's voice was sharp and thin in the buffeting winds and Harry barely heard it, but he did feel Narcissa grab hold of his shoulders and physically push him down.

Harry gasped, lowering the broom slightly until his toes barely brushed the tops of the tall pine trees.

He heard Severus shout something garbled and turned to seethe Death Eater fall from the sky like a dead crow. Then the potion's master flew closer, gesturing that he wanted to say something, and Harry slowed down to hear him.

"Is she well," Snape asked.

The word 'Who' was on the tip of Harry's tongue before he realized what the man was talking about and turned to look at Narcissa.

Her eyes were closed and she looked pale in the dim moonlight. Her grip around Harry's waist has loosened, but the Gryffindor ascribed that to their being out of danger for them moment.

"She's fine," he said to Severus and pointed his broom in the direction of the castle.

They traveled onward in silence and slowly Harry felt Narcissa's hold become looser. Finally her hands fell away entirely and only quick action on Snape's part kept her from falling to the ground entirely.

The two men found a flat area and landed, lowering Narcissa to the ground. Harry stood back, helpless, as Snape leaned over the woman, checking her breath, her temperature, her pulse.

And finding nothing.

Narcissa Malfoy was dead.

Harry was frozen in place. The last chance they had was gone.

Severus peeled away the woman's hood to find bleeding at the back of her head, where the curse that missed Harry had hit.

Harry's legs were weak under him and he felt himself fall before he realized he was doing it.

Sitting on the ground, his hands in his lap and his eyes on the unmoving face of the dead woman

Harry felt the immense pressure of tears in his chest, his eyes, but non would fall.

"Potter, pull yourself together and get back to the castle," Snape said as he pulled Narcissa's hood down over her face.

"I—She's dead. what are we going to do now if she's dead," Harry said, his head spinning and frozen at the same time.

Harry saw Severus bite his lip and he knew what the man was going to say but he couldn't hear it. If Severus didn't say it, it wasn't true.

Harry rushed forward and pushed Severus away, gathering up the bod-- the woman in his arms and clenching his eyes shut he said, "She's not dead. She can't be dead. I'm going to take her to Hogwarts and Madame Pomphrey will be able to help her."

Before Severus could say anything, Harry was gone.

Intellectually Harry knew it was impossible to apparate through the wards of Hogwarts. Merlin knows Hermione had told him enough. But that part of him that was above and apart from any intellectual processes only knew that Draco was dying and that the still pale woman in his arms was the only thing that could stop it.

It felt like needles. Like thousands, millions of fiery needles piercing his flesh, but after an eternity passed he was there, in the infirmary.

"Pom! Madame Pomphrey are you here," he shouted.

The woman came out of a curtained cubicle in the corner, a sad look on her face that grew into horrible joy as she took in the figure in Harry's arms, then faded into despair as the experienced eyes of a healer saw what Harry refused to accept.

Slowly the woman used her wand to move Narcissa to one of the empty beds.

"You an save her, right? I know she's bad off, but you can…" Harry's voice trailed off as he saw the medi-witch pull the clean white sheet over Narcissa's face. The fabric was unmoved by breath.

The idea of that, of seeing someone so still and quiet in the infirmary where Harry had come so often to be healed, where generation and generation of Hogwarts student had been put back together after any number of magical accidents, hit Harry like a bolt of lightning and the world swam in front of his eyes.

"Harry? Harry!"

Harry heard Pomphrey's voice through a fog and only vaguely felt her guiding hands lead him to a chair.

His mind ran and endless stream, 'It's over, it's over, it's ove--'

"Harry? Did you find her? Here is she?"

Neville's voice came out of nowhere, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

The Gryffindor boy looked up and gasped.

Neville had a black eye and his right arm was in a sling, strapped to his chest. Scratches and other bruises covered the boy's face and arms.

Harry leaned down and gripped Neville's shoulders, lightening his hold when the boy winced.

"What happened, Nev? Was there an accident?"

The boy looked from Harry to the curtained alcove and his face fell.

"Neville, what's the matter?"

The little boy began shaking and pressed himself into Harry's arms.

Not sure what was going on, Harry wrapped his arms around the trembling boy and met Pomphrey's eyes over the little boy's shoulders.

The woman's eyes were brimming with tears. Harry didn't know what was going on. Narcissa was dead, and with her Draco's chances of survival, Neville was injured, and Draco was…

Harry pushed Neville back, looking the little boy in the eye. "Where is Draco?"

The boy took a deep sobbing breath before taking Harry's hand and leading him to the curtained alcove in the corner.

The little boy pushed aside the curtain silently and in the bed Harry saw Draco Malfoy, lying still and as quiet as the grave.

Harry stepped back sharply, closing his eyes tightly. Too much, too much tonight.

"What is going on here?"

Snape's voice came from the doorway of the infirmary, and the acerbic tones sent a cool feeling of relief through Harry. He didn't like Snape, and Snape didn't like him, but the man was safe, predictable, and nothing bad happened around him.

Snape didn't like him, but Snape would fix it.

Harry reopened his eyes ad stepped out of the alcove to see Snape standing with Pomphrey by the long counter against the far wall. As Harry watched the woman slumped heavily, bracing her hands on the table, and to Harry's surprise Snape set a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Turning back to Draco, Harry saw Neville clamber up onto the bed one-handed and lay next t the boy. Not really wanting to get any closer, but also not wanting the little boy to sleep next to the dead, Harry stepped closer, and took a relieved and shuddering breath as he saw Draco's chest rise and fall slowly.

Draco was alive.

Comforted by the rhythmic motion, Harry smiled slightly, before turning back to Snape and Pomphrey, his smile falling away at the sight of the sheet-draped body of Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry walked over to the other two. "So, is Draco okay? He's just asleep, right. A fever? And what about Neville, did he fall out of a tree?"

The two adults looked at him silently before Pomphrey turned back to the table and Snape laid his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We need to talk, Potter."

The man walked out of the room and Harry followed. The stopped in a small alcove in the hall where an arrow slit cut high on the wall let in a weak stream of moonlight.

"What's going on, Professor?"

The man leaned against the wall. "It seems nothing is working for us tonight, Potter."

And the man began to speak.

_Neville heard them. When they were standing in the Astronomy Tower the little boy heard enough of their plan to know that they were flying and that they were going to save Draco's life._

_And Neville wanted to help._

_Sneaking away from Draco the little boy made his ay to the Quidditch shed and found one of the brooms the teams used. Not as stealthy as he thought he was Draco followed him and when the little boy launched into the air, higher and faster than he had ever flown before, Draco was right behind him._

_And when the six year old hit an updraft that tossed his broom through the air like the twig it actually was, Neville fell._

_Luckily Draco was there, Draco with the Seeker reflexes to catch the falling boy and toss him onto the older boy's broom with a minimum of fuss._

_The blond turned the broom towards he castle, but his illness crept up on him as they flew and the closer they got to the school the worse he felt until he finally fell unconscious._

_For a few harrowing seconds Neville and Draco were free-falling through the night sky, until the little boy took control of the broom and brought himself and Draco to a crashing halt on the grounds._

_The worst injury was a broken arm for the little boy and some bumps and bruises, but Draco still hadn't woken up, and Pomphrey wasn't sure if he ever would._

Harry listened to the recitation in silence, then stood in the alcove as Snape walked back to the infirmary.

Instead of following him, Harry walked in the opposite direction, letting his feet guide him to the front gates of the castle and out onto the grounds.

False dawn was lying over the Quidditch pitch and Harry took one sobbing breath before the darkness swept over him and he collapsed to the grass, howling at the weak grey sky.

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**Note: **So you're kind of wishing I stopped after the last chapter now, aren't you? Things look bleak for our little friends, don't they? I wonder what will happen next. Well, I don't wonder, I know because it's my story, but I'm sure you guys are wondering.

Review.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. I'm just having a little fun. I consider this my hobby, which means it's what I'd rather be doing when I'm off at work or spending time with my loved ones. You know, boring crap like that.

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**CHAPTER 22**

The next week passed in a blur. Severus disposed of Narcissa's body, burying her in all honor on the grounds of Hogwarts. Harry, Neville , and Madame Pomphrey were all in attendance, Draco still unconscious in the infirmary.

The Potions Master said some words over her grave, memories of Narcissa as she had been and Harry was surprised at how human the severe blond had been to her friends and family.

But when Severus began to speak about Narcissa's love for her son Harry had to excuse himself, moving past Pomphrey and Neville and back in to the castle where he managed to hold himself together until he reached their rooms before falling onto the couch. He wasn't crying, but his breath rasped so harshly through his chest in dry sobs that he felt tears would be a relief.

Perhaps that is why he fought them. Harry knew he didn't deserve relief, didn't deserve to feel comfortable or happy. He failed. Narcissa was dead, and though it wasn't at his hands it might as well have been as the woman died protecting him and on her way to protect her son, and though his failure Harry had sentenced both blonds to death.

After the burial, life returned to normal. Or whatever twisted parody of normal could be reached. With Draco comatose in the infirmary Harry acted as a single parent of sorts to Neville. They didn't fly anymore, both boys too overwhelmed by memories to even contemplate getting on a broom again.

Nightmares returned for both of them, but this time the one they failed to save had blond hair.

Severus returned to his labs to brew the cure for Neville. As he had researched a cure for Draco, he had also researched a cure for Neville. Though one would fail, the other might have success.

Draco's condition was worsening. Harry visited him every day, brining Neville with him, and they could see the changes. The more time passed, the paler the Slytherin seemed to get. Harry was afraid that one day they would go to visit him and find he had disappeared completely into his sheets.

When they weren't visiting Draco, they were in their quarters, working on puzzles and reading. Harry had abandoned the Decameron. Many of the stories were either too sexual or too violent for a child. Instead they were reading fairy tales. The muggle versions, safe and clean.

One night, as they read Sleeping Beauty, Harry got an idea.

Well, Neville got the idea.

"If Draco was Beauty you could kiss him and he would wake up. Could you kiss him?" Neville asked.

Harry nodded absently, but as Neville drifted off he could feel the words circling in his head. Once he boy was asleep, Harry returned to his books. Focusing on the magical bonds.

After a few hours, interrupted once by a nightmare of Neville's, requiring him to sooth the boy for a half hour, Harry found it and raced to Severus's lab.

The man was standing where Harry had first seen him only two months before. He didn't turn or react in any visible way as Harry slammed the door open.

"I found it," Harry said, walking up and slapping the book on the table.

"Found what," Snape replied, pouring a potion into a vial.

Harry waited until the man was done moving the chemicals and the glass containers were corked and put aside.

Fairly shaking with excitement, Harry pointed to the relevant passages and said, "I can marry him."

Severus sighed. "You can't marry him, Potter. He said no. And moreover he's unconscious."

"No, no," Harry said. "There are provisos for this. You're his godfather so you can act in his parents stead and give consent."

"Magical bonds won't work on the unconscious, Potter. They require some modicum of emotion between the two bonded and--"

"No, he loves me. Draco, I mean. this will work. I know he's unconscious, but you're acting in his stead. You can consent for him based on what you know of his feelings and it will be just as good as his word."

Severus shook his head. "This won't work, Potter. And even if it did, once he wakes up--"

"We'll deal with it later," Harry said. "Will you do this?"

"I don't think it will work," Severus said. "But if it will make you feel better for the attempt, and because I know of my godson's feelings for you, I will give my consent."

"Great," Harry said, grabbing the book off of he table with one hand and grabbing Snape's wrist with the other.

He dragged the man to the infirmary nd Draco's bedside only to see Madame Pomphrey already there. She had a serious look on her face and Harry felt his stomach fall into his boots. He let go of Snape and heard the book hit the floor before he realized he dropped it.

"He's not," Harry said.

"No," Pomphrey replied. "But we are getting closer, I'm afraid. Its good you're here, as a matter of fact. Doubt he will last he night."

Harry looked at Severus and he could feel the desperation in his heart shining from his eyes. He could only hope the older man saw it.

It seemed he had as Severus nodded firmly and drew his wand.

Harry followed his lead and drew his wand as well.

Pomphrey said something about 'disturbing the patient' but Harry brushed her words away. Something much more important was happening.

He felt the magic drifting through the room focus and become something like a rope, or a wire. Slowly it wrapped around his wrist and if Harry squinted he would later swear he saw the magic wrap around Draco as well.

Slowly Harry was pulled towards the unconscious boy and he shivered as he felt the heat streaming off of Draco's skin.

Snape was chanting, had been chanting since the ritual began, but Harry couldn't understand him, couldn't understand anything other than the boy so close to him.

The chanting grew louder and Harry was pulled closer, so close that he felt he was almost moving through the blond. Closer still and his lips were pressed against the blond's.

It was a cool kiss, but as their lips were pressed together and Harry's heated breaths met and mixed with Draco's slower cool ones, something changed.

Draco's eyes opened.

Harry pulled back suddenly and the magic let him. He landed hard on his behind, but pulled himself back up with the edge of the bed to see Draco, awake and smiling.

"Were you trying to molest me in my sleep, Potter," the blond asked. He was smiling and Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful before.

Severus cleared his throat harshly and Harry looked up to se he man turn away, a familiar shine in his eyes. Harry couldn't blame Snape. He was tempted to cry himself. But he also wanted to laugh and scream and dance and go get Neville. But more than all of that he wanted to kiss Draco again.

So he did.

After that the blond was tired, so Harry let him go to sleep after getting Pomphrey's assurances that Draco was okay, hat this was a normal sleep that he would wake from in a few ours.

Knowing Neville was asleep, Harry took the seat next to Draco's bed and sat there, planning to stand watch over the blond for the rest of the night.

He woke up a few hours later to see Neville sitting on the end of the bed, working on a puzzle with Draco, who had a large tray set on his lap.

"See, you have to start with the corners and the borders. Then you work your way in," the boy explained.

"Sounds sensible," Draco replied.

Harry looked up at the blond, part of him afraid that everything was a dream and he would se the blond unconscious and pale again, but no. Draco was sitting up against a veritable mountain of pillows and laughing as Neville explained the intricate world of jigsaw puzzles to him.

A few hours later the puzzle was completed and Harry's sides were sore from laughing. The Slytherin had taken the presence of some pieces that weren't meant to fit in the puzzle and were designed to mislead them as a personal affront and gone into a snit that was a funny as it was insincere.

Neville, worn out from a week of emotional upset and sudden relief, fell asleep at Draco's side and as soon as they were sure he was out the happiness fell from Draco's face.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked.

Draco smiled softly. "I don't know how I woke up. I really thought I was going to die this time."

Harry opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. He didn't know how Draco would take the news of their proxy-marriage. he decided to hold his tongue for the moment. After all they had time. Instead he changed the subject.

Nodding at Neville, Harry said, "Snape thinks he has a cure."

Draco smiled, but it was a sad smile. "So, our little boy is going to grow up," he said softly, carding pale fingers through the fluffy brown hair.

Harry nodded. "It's going to take about a wee to brew the cure, but then Neville will be back to his old self and everything will go back to normal." Harry couldn't keep a thread of relief out of his voice at that. The drama of he past few weeks was wearing him down.

He missed the way Draco's back stiffened. "Normal? I suppose so." Draco turned back to Harry with a brittle smile. "It will be nice to get back to normal."

Harry nodded absently and yawned.

Draco's eyes softened. "You look exhausted. Come up here," he said, patting the mattress next to him.

Harry was too tired to blush and demur so he just got out of his chair and joined Draco and Neville on the bed.

Sleep carried him under before he could stop to say anything, but he would tell Draco about their wedding in the morning.

He didn't.

Not that morning, afternoon, or evening, nor any time the next day.

At first it didn't seem like a big deal. After that first day Draco reclaimed his life with a fierce joy. With Pomphrey's consent the blond got out of his bed and though his actions were limited the first few days, Draco made himself a part of everything Neville and Harry did.

Flying practice resumed, Harry and Neville both comforted by the sight of Draco, pink cheeked and smiling on a broom between them as they flew through the sky over the Quidditch pitch. And soccer games were more fun with the blond running from one side to the other, depending on whether Harry or Neville were playing better.

They wandered every inch of the castle, rousting the Boggarts in their lair and chasing them off as they turned into turkeys dressed like Dementors, and hairless dogs with Voldemort's red eyes.

Every minute of every day was filled with laughter and the nights with quiet smiles and soft passionate kisses.

The next thing Harry knew it was Friday, and the potion was due to be complete on Saturday morning. That day Draco suggested they take a small boat out onto the lake and the three of them spent an amazing day on the water, Neville and Harry could swim like a fish and Draco entertained himself by creating small waves on the surface of the lake to dunk the other two boys periodically.

That night Neville fell exhausted into his bed, Draco and Harry pressing kisses to his forehead. Harry was worn out as well so he kissed the blond warmly before turning to his own bed.

A few hours later Harry as woken by something, some strange noise. He got out o bed and walked into the main room to see Draco slumped over their table.

His heart in his throat, Harry rushed over. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the Slytherin was breathing, but that relief died as he saw the Slytherin's damp and flushed cheeks. Harry moved closer to wake the boy and move him to his bed. He pulled Draco away from the table and lifted him in his arms, knocking some of the papers the blond had been lying on to the floor.

After laying Draco in bed, and another kiss to ward off bad dreams, Harry returned to the main room to clean up the mess.

He picked up the papers on the floor, wondering what could have gotten the blond so upset, but as he saw what it was, the papers slipped through his suddenly numb fingers and fell to the floor.

His knees weak, Harry staggered to the couch and buried his face in his hands.

Funeral arrangements.

Draco was making funeral arrangements.

There was a glossy picture of a marble angel with a terribly familiar face, and several photos of caskets in mahogany or cherry, lined in white silk.

Harry bit his lip and stood to gather up the scattered papers and return them to the table. He turned them face down and set them under a stack of books in case Neville woke up and he was curious. His stomach in knots Harry returned to bed where he stare at the wall for the rest of the night.

The next morning Draco said nothing about how he got to bed, but Harry saw that the papers and pictures were gone from the table. Neville was chattering about what it would be like to be all grown up and taller, but Harry couldn't reply, couldn't act like everything was normal.

Breakfast was stilted and the walk to Severus's lab even more so. It was decided that they would give Neville the potion there n case something went wrong and Severus had to use one of the emergency back up tinctures he had prepared.

When they got to the door Harry let Neville go in first and held Draco back.

"What, Potter? We need to be there for Nevs."

"I know, but I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Draco said. "My time is limited, you know," he said, with a wry twist to his lips.

"That's just it, though. It isn't. I-- I mean. look, we found a cure we found it a while ago, and then you didn't want it so we found another. But that-- it didn't-- she-- we had to go back to the original plan and Severus didn't think it would work but I knew it would, I found it in the book and--" The words fell out of Harry in a rush and only Draco's raised hand stopped him.

"Do you have a point," Draco asked.

"We're married."

(_12345_)

**Note: **My beta, DerSaboteur, said that you guys would kill me for the way I ended this chapter, but I have to think that cutting it off where I did is going to help the beginning of the next chapter. And like any writer, the more important thing is the writing you haven't done yet.

On a more serious note, it is my birthday today. I am old. The years have not been kind. Give me reviews or I may find myself too decrepit to update. I know I'm joking about it, but it is my birthday and if you're at a loss for a gift, well, a review would be lovely.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. But I've got a brand new pair of roller skates if you've got a brand new key. (I don't own those lyrics either.)

(_12345_)

**CHAPTER 23**

"_We're married."_

Harry saw Draco's mouth drop open and braced himself for anything from a hug to a hex.

He sighed in relief when Snape appeared in the doorway of the lab.

"If you two are quite ready, I believe young Mr. Longbottom would like you with him and I am ready to proceed."

Draco nodded and walked into the lab, Harry whispering a quick, "Thanks" to the professor as he followed.

A cot was set up against the far wall and Neville was perched on the edge, swinging his legs back and forth and biting his lip.

As Harry looked on, Draco sat next to the little boy and wrapped an arm around is neck, leaning in to whisper something that made Neville smile.

As Draco stood up and walked over to the tale where Harry was waiting, Harry asked, "What did you say?"

The blond looked away from him, Draco's entire attention on Neville as he said, "It's none of your business, Potter."

Those quiet words stung Harry, but he didn't know how to respond, so he went over to where Neville was now lying down, something Snape said about the potion causing extreme drowsiness.

"How are you doing, Nevs?"

The little boy smiled, but Harry could see the worry in his brown eyes.

"It's okay. I'm going to be tall, right?"

Harry nodded. "A few inches taller than me, actually."

The little boy nodded, grinning fiercely. "When I'm big, I'm going to throw you in the lake."

Harry grinned back, remembering that moment from their trip to the lake the day before. Neville was screaming with laughter as he arced through the air, but came up vowing revenge.

"It's time," Snape said as he walked over, a small vial in his hands.

Harry felt Neville grip his fingers fiercely ,and when he looked at the little boy's face he was surprised to see fear in his eyes. Harry looked to Draco for support. For a few long moments he thought the blond would do nothing, but then Draco came over and joined him, taking Neville's other hand.

"Remember what I told you, Nev ?" Draco asked, his voice a soft croon.

Neville nodded, closing his eyes. A few tears drifted past the dark lashes and Harry wiped them away with the thumb of his free hand.

The vial was held to Neville's lips and the little boy opened up on command.

"This should only take a few minutes to work its way through his system. Then he will sleep for several hours as his body grows."

Severus's voice was calm and Harry took comfort in that. After spending so much time with the older man as they both fought for Draco's life, he learned every gradient of Snape's tone, from passive sarcasm, to bleak despair and every shade in between. But there was no fear or uncertainty in he potion's masters voice and that was all Harry needed to know. This would work.

As Neville swallowed the potion, he grimaced and Harry looked up to share a conspiratorial grin with Draco about the horrible taste of all potions, but the blond was looking at the little boy's face as if he were memorizing it.

Draco's fingers caressed the dimpled hand they held, and his free hand was clenched at his side. Both boys felt Neville fall into sleep, his grip becoming weaker.

In silent accord they held on, waving Severus away when he suggested they go back to their rooms.

Slowly they watched Neville age. It was like a video Harry watched in primary school, of a flower growing. A process that would normally take months seemed to happen in moments.

It felt like no time had passed before Harry found himself sitting next to the fifteen year old version of the brunette.

Severus stepped forward again and ran his wand over the now-teenager.

"He is a perfectly healthy fifteen year old again. I expect he shall be awake and back to normal in a few hours.

Harry felt himself let out a harsh breath that he hadn't known he was holding. Neville was okay, back to normal. He turned to Draco. "Isn't this grea--"

But the blond was already standing, having released Neville's hand.

Looking only at Snape, Draco said, "I will be returning to my quarters, Severus. Please make sure that the House Elves move my things."

A puzzled expression on his face, Snape nodded, and Draco walked towards the doorway.

Taking one more look at Neville, Harry stood up as well and followed the blond out into the hall.

Draco wasn't looking back, so Harry ran forward a few steps and grabbed the sleeve of his robe to stop him.

Draco turned sharply and glared at Harry in the way he hadn't for over two months and Harry swallowed back a sudden lump in his throat, feeling it lodge firmly in his chest.

"Is there something you need, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to say.

Draco smirked. "I thought not. Now will you kindly let go of my robe?"

Harry fingers, numb, fell away from the heavy fabric and he watched the blond walk away, before turning to get back into the lab.

He stopped, froze in place. It couldn't end here. It wouldn't end here.

Harry turned and chased Draco down the hall, wrapping his arms around the Slytherin's waist to keep him from moving.

"No. I have to talk to you, to explain."

Draco struggled against his grip, but Harry held on tight and eventually the fight faded out of the blond and he sagged.

"What is it, Potter? What can you tell me that will make this okay?"

Draco's voice was flat and weak. Harry wanted to let the boy go, to turn him so Harry could look into those grey eyes, but he knew the Slytherin was just waiting for a chance to run, so he kept his grip firm and unyielding.

"I'm sorry. I know you said no. You told me no more than once, but you-- Yu were dying. Pomphrey said you might not last the night and that we should say our good-byes. I found a book and it said that I could marry you, even if you were unconscious, as long a I got your guardians consent and you had feelings for me. Snape went along with it and you…"

Harry's voice trailed off. He didn't have anything else to say. All he could do was let Draco go and see what the blond's reaction would be.

AS soon as he let go, Draco sprang out of his arms, running a few steps away before turning back, his eyes bright and a high red color in his cheeks.

"I can't do this, Potter. I-- me and you-- I can't do this."

And with that Draco was gone, stalking down the hallway and out of sight, leaving Harry behind only a few yards away from the lab.

At a loss for what to do, Harry returned to the lab, his steps as heavy as his heart.

"Potter? What is the matter?"

Harry looked up at the professor. "I don't know. I mean, I suppose I do, I told him and he reacted…"

"Badly," the older man finished in a flat voice.

Harry nodded, then turned his attention to the sleeping Neville. "A few more hours?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded. "I'm going to go back and pack up our rooms. If Draco is leaving then it only makes sense for Neville and I to leave as well. That time is over."

Harry turned to leave the room, but paused in the doorway. "I should be back before he wakes up. But if I'm not, please be nice to him."

"I am not a nice person, Potter," the professor said.

Harry smiled. "Try."

When he got up to their rooms, Draco and everything of his was gone. Harry called for one of the House Elves to help him in packing up his belongings. Some of the teen aged Neville's clothing had been shrunken so the child version could wear it, but some of it was new. Harry re-altered some of the clothes, and had the House Elf send the others to an orphanage, along with some of the toys, though he saved the puzzles and a few books.

Returning to Gryffindor Tower for the first time all summer was strange. Their set of rooms were decorated in cool neutral colors, stepping into so much red and gold was almost painful as the late afternoon sunlight glared off of flaking gilt picture- and mirror-frames.

Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the afterimages of the light. He stumbled to one of the over-stuffed chairs in front of the fire and collapsed into it. It felt softer than he remembered and he sank into the soft surface, feeling the loose cushions shift towards him.

For a moment he rested in the chair's embrace, then as his vision cleared he struggled to his feet again and made his way to the staircase leading to the boy's dorm.

The room was the same as Harry remembered it. Trunks at the foot of every bed, and as Harry checked he saw their possessions had been returned. The only change was a small pile of books on his and Neville's bed, along with a note.

It was from McGonagall, and basically said that the school year would be beginning again in two weeks. There was a truncated list of summer homework, only a few short assignments, and

Harry was told that his and Neville's supplies had already been purchased and were waiting for them.

A list of school supplies was attached to the note and Harry examined it as he went through the new books and found a stainless steel cauldron with a bag of potions ingredients nestled inside.

He moved the school things and set them on top of his trunk, doing the same with Neville's, then he left the dorm and Gryffindor Tower and went back to the lab.

When he got there he found Severus perched on one of the lab table stools, a cup of tea in his hand as he flipped through a book. Harry walked over to the cot and saw Neville still sleeping peacefully, but within a few seconds of his arrival the boy started to shift.

Slowly brown eyes opened and widened as Neville caught sight of Harry.

Harry moved forward to help Neville sit up, then he took a seat on the cot next to the boy.

Neville kept his eyes trained on the floor and when Harry looked up he saw that Severus left the room, so he knew he had to make the first move.

"So, Nevs, how does it feel to be old?"

The brunet snorted.

"That good, eh?"

Neville nodded, smiling, though he was still looking down at the floor.

"Are you feeling better?"

Neville looked up at Harry and smiled, a faint pink blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess. It's very weird, you know?"

Harry nodded in agreement. He actually had no idea how it felt, but agreeing was a reflex formed over several years of ponderous lectures from Hermione.

"I remember parts of it. My head is fuzzy."

"I'm sure it will clear up soon enough," Harry said. "It's probably really hard to go from fifteen to six and back again."

"Yeah."

The two boys were silent for a few minutes before Neville said, "Where is Draco?"

Harry froze. "He, uh…"

"I thought he would be here. I mean, he was here when I fell asleep, I remember that, and he said something."

"He had to go back to his dorm," Harry said.

"Why?"

Harry focused his eyes on the ground, even as he felt Neville's gaze press into his skin. "He's working on his summer homework. We have some short assignments, reading and things. We spent so much time taking care of yo--"

Harry cut himself off, horrified. He looked up at Neville, ready to deny blaming the boy, but Neville just shook his head and smiled.

"You're a terrible liar, Harry. Something happened, what was it? I'm starting to remember what happened while I was a child. Is this because of the marriage?"

Harry nodded and slumped heavily on the cot, burying his face in his hands.

He felt Neville rub his back, the way Harry had done for the little boy during their months together when Neville was upset.

"We'll work it out, don't worry."

Neville's voice carried all of the confidence the teen had developed, with the enthusiasm of the child. Harry couldn't help but feel heartened by that.

The next few days passed in a haze of studying and trying to find Draco. Harry hadn't seen the blond since that day in Severus's private lab, though it was not for lack of effort. He tried to use the Marauders Map, but somehow Draco managed to find a way to trick the parchment.

Neville was no help. The newly adventurous brunet spent every moment he wasn't poring over his textbooks flying like a maniac over the Quidditch Pitch. Neville's first act after leaving the lab was to get one of the student brooms for the older years and try out every trick Harry had taught the six-year-old version, to see if they still worked with a taller and heavier body.

This had caused a few heart-stopping moments for Harry, but it was worth it to see the joy on his friends face.

Finally it as the night before the other students were to return.

Dumbledore was back in the castle according to the stone gargoyle outside of his office, but without the password Harry had no way to get to the man, and really no idea what to ask him if he did.

Harry and Neville spent an hour clearing up the mess of plates and glasses and crumbs and laundry and scattered parchment and quills they had littered over the common room and boy's dorm, then Neville went to bed.

Harry, energized by the idea that everyone would be back soon, stayed up, wrapping a warm robe around his shoulders and taking off into the halls of Hogwarts.

There was something very different in wandering the castle when it was essentially empty. There were no Prefects roaming the halls, or romantic couples hiding from them. Filch and Mrs. Norris wouldn't be back on duty until the next day, so Harry was alone with his thoughts.

He took a detour past their old quarters. After he moved his and Neville's things back to the dorms, Harry had actively avoided the old teacher's wing. There were too many memories in those rooms, too many memories of the little family he had built and loved for a few short months. Now that family was gone, and it hurt to think of it, but tonight seemed like a night for reminiscence, so he muttered the password to the painting and the door swung open.

Inside he saw all of the furniture the way he had left it, and he felt hollow. Part of him hoped that someone else, that Draco, had visited the rooms as well. But it appeared that hadn't happened.

Slowly he made his way through the apartment, remembering everything that had happened there. His feet took him to Draco's room, and the bed where the blond sweated and cursed his way through fever after fever as Neville and Harry stood watch. Harry sat on the bed, letting his fingers run over the now cool sheets.

He lay back against the pillows, gasping as the scent of Draco's shampoo rose from the smooth cotton. Tears prickled his eyes, but he blinked until they receded. He didn't want to cry.

Sometimes it felt like the summer was nothing more than tears, over Neville, and Draco, and every wonderful and horrible thing that had happened.

Slowly he fell asleep.

And in his dreams a tall pale boy pulled the blanket up over his chest, gently maneuvering his body until he was lying comfortably, before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and walking away.

"Idiot Potter."

Harry reached out a hand to stop him, but the boy kept walking, never turning back.

Harry woke up and pushed the heavy blanket away. He sat up on the bed, confused as to where he was and shivering. As the fog of sleep cleared he remembered the walk to their room and falling asleep in Draco's bed surrounded by memories.

He felt chilly and looked up to see his robe laid over the back of the chair across the room. He didn't member taking it of, but didn't think much of it as he got up, retrieved his glasses from the bedside table, grabbed his robe, and returned to the dorms.

Inside Neville was in a panic.

"Where were you? It's almost time. Do I look okay?"

Harry smiled. "I was in our old rooms, and you look fine. I imagine you will be turning a few girls heads this year."

Neville blushed, then grinned at Harry. "You should get cleaned up as well. You look like you slept in your clothes."

"Why? I don't have anyone to impress." Harry's smile fell away as he felt the truth in those words.

Neville stepped closer and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. The gesture felt very different now that Neville was two inches taller than him, but Harry ignored it in favor of listening to the other boy.

"Harry I know you're upset, but it will all turn out all right. And even if he is ignoring you, you are guaranteed to see him at the Welcoming Fest."

Harry took a deep breath. Neville had a point.

"Okay then, let's get me put together. I want to blow his mind."

Neville grinned and Harry felt the slightest trickle of fear run down his spine as the other boy dragged him up to the dorms, mumbling something about 'hair product.'

"I knew Malfoy would be a bad influence on you," Harry muttered, but Neville just laughed.

That laugh didn't diminish his apprehension a bit.

A few hours later Harry and Neville stood at the doors of the Great Hall and Harry was sure he had never felt more nervous in his life.

Part of him was ecstatic to see his friends again for the first time in months, wanting to see how their summer went and find out why they hadn't been able to visit, but another part of him was searching the still-empty vestibule for Draco and wondering where the blond was.

The noise of a large crowd began to rise and as if out of nowhere the mass of the student body was upon them.

Immediately Harry had Hermione and Ron at his side, demanding details of the summer, and he saw that Ginny Weasley gravitated directly to Neville, who smiled and blushed adorably.

They were moved into the Hall with the crowd and before he knew it Harry was sitting at the Gryffindor table, listening to Ron's epic tale of getting to visit the dragon preserve in Romania with Ginny, while simultaneously nodded to every question Hermione asked him about his summer homework, whether he heard it or not, but Harry's eyes were still scanning the Hall.

Normally Draco sat at the center of the Slytherin table, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson at his sides. But Harry couldn't find him now.

While he nodded at his friends and pretended to listen he scanned the other table for a head of white blond hair and finally found it at the very end of the table by the door, and facing away from him.

Eventually Hermione noticed his silence because she patted his arm. "Are you all right, Harry?"

He nodded, but that wasn't enough for her as she said, "We've been talking forever, how was your summer?"

At a gesture from Hermione Ron stopped talking and turned to Harry with an expectant look.

After sharing a commiserating look with Neville, safely ensconced a few seats down, Harry took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he could explain everything that happened in way that would satisfy Hermione's curiosity without making Ron angry.

It had been a hectic summer.

Before he had the chance to speak he saw Draco stand up from the table and take a few steps towards the doorway before collapsing to the floor.

Instinctively Harry stood up, but before he had the chance to get out from between the bench and the table he saw Blaise and Pansy rush to Draco's side, with Crabbe and Goyle at their heels like well-trained mastiffs.

Harry shot a panicked look at Neville, then at the head table to see that Severus had risen from his seat and moved across the room to the fallen Slytherin.

Severus moved the other students aside and quickly lifted Draco, carrying him out of the Hall.

Harry, his heart pounding in his throat, gave in to the weakness in his knees and sat back down.

He knew if he tried to chase after the Slytherins he would probably collapse the way Draco did, but in his case the cause would be pure nerves.

"Harry, what's going on? Are you okay?"

Hermione's voice was just a hum, Harry couldn't make out anything she said. He was caught in a fog of panic.

Draco was sick.

"Harry, come on. We have to go see how he is," Neville's voice came form behind him, calm and sure, and Harry turned to see the brunet had gotten up and walked over to him.

Hermione and Ron looked on in confusion as Harry nodded and stood, taking Neville's assistance to get out of his seat on the closely packed bench.

Harry ld the way to Snape's private lab, knowing that if the man weren't there already he would be soon.

Sure enough they found him standing at one of the long tables.

"Severus, is it Draco? Is he okay?"

The man shook his head and Harry saw Neville gulp heavily.

"I thought he would be okay, I thought you healed him." Neville turned to Harry with tears in his eyes and said, "I thought you healed him.

Harry shook his head and turned to the professor, not sure what to say. Hadn't Draco been healed?

Severus shook his head. "I'm afraid all we did was postpone things. His symptoms have been recurring over the last few days, but this was the most severe attack yet. Draco has a mild fever, but he dizziness is what caused him to fall unconscious."

Neville gasped and turned sharply, running out of he room.

Harry turned to follow.

"Stop Potter."

"I have to go after Neville. He's so upset."

The potion's masters voice was dry and harsh. "And you will let Draco die?"

Harry glared at the man. "How am I letting him die? I married him and now we find that it won't help. I don't know what to do. I don't-- I can't--"

The last words were broken by a painful, pain filled sob and Harry felt his knees, still weak, collapse beneath him.

Severus moved quickly and caught him, leading him to one of the stools that lined the long table and Harry fell onto it, laying his head on the table and bawling into his shirtsleeves.

It was all for nothing. Marrying Draco, loving him, all of it was for nothing because the blond was still going to die. Another person Harry loved was going to die and leave him and there was nothing he could do.

Unsure how much of his thoughts were spoken aloud amid the shattered sobs, Harry started when he heard Severus say, "There may actually be something you can do."

A weak candle flame of hope lit in Harry's chest and he looked up, drying his face with his short cuff though he could feel the tears still falling. "What?"

"I said, there may be something you can do."

Severus was blushing softly and something about his expression triggered a memory in Harry, but he just couldn't grip it. "What is it? What can I do?"

"You need to… You are married, but you never… Remember how we discussed, when the idea of marriage arose that you might need to 'consummate' the union?"

Harry nodded slowly. Truthfully he didn't remember the conversation, but if Severus had an idea that would work he was ready to hear it.

Wait.

"Consummate? So we have to have--"

Severus raised is hand, forestalling Harry's next words. "I don't need to hear it, Mr. Potter. It's bad enough knowing you need to do it."

The flame of hope in Harry's chest grew hotter and moved lower. Consummate.

Consummation. Yes… But--

"No."

Severus looked up from his close examination of the surface of the table, shock in his black eyes. "No?"

Harry shook his head, feeling miserable and sick. "He hates me. Even if he loved me before, he hates me now. I married him against his will."

Severus shook his head. "That doesn't matter. You are married and you have to do this. He is a practical boy and he will understand."

Harry snorted. "He'll understand? Why would he? Merlin knows I wouldn't in his position, I can't imagine most people would."

Severus opened his mouth to say something but this time Harry cut him off. "No. I married him against his will, I can't-- this-- against his will as well."

"It wouldn't be against his will, Potter. He wants you."

Harry looked away. "He hates me. He's been avoiding me ever since we got Neville back. He would rather die than look at me."

Severus gripped Harry's shoulder tightly. "If that's true then why has he been wandering this castle every night? He spent all of last night sleeping in his old bedroom in your quarters. If he hated you and the time you spent together, why would he do that?"

Harry touched his lips lightly. That dream, that realistic dream… And if it actually happened? What else might be possible?

Harry wiped his face again, clearing away the drying trails of tears. "Okay. I can do this. Romance and everything, I can do this," he said and marched out of the room.

(_12345_)

**Note: **I am so sorry for the delay in updating this and MY ANGEL. I didn't have the time to write last week the way I normally do, and the chapters weren't coming out right. We are nearing the end in both of these stories and I want it to be good while at the same time wishing it would never come.

Part of me wishes I had stopped the chapter after Draco passed out in the Great Hall for the sake of heightened drama, but I'm pretty sure that would have led to all of you storming my castle with pitchforks and torches, ready to hang me by my thumbs until I finished the story.

So, angry mob, tell me what you think. I do so enjoy reviews. They are the cream in my coffee, if I liked coffee, so instead they are the bubbles in my cola. Bubble away, reviewers. Bubble away.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or his world. I make no money from this writing. It's probably for the best since it can take me so long to get the chapters out. I'd never make the rent.

(_12345_)

**CHAPTER 24**

"_Okay. I can do this. Romance and everything, I can do this," he said and marched out of the room._

Five minutes after Harry walked out of Severus's lab, he walked back in. The intervening minutes were spent taking a few steps down the hall, vaguely in the direction of he infirmary where he knew Draco was resting before turning back.

"Yes?"

The professor's voice was dry and unsurprised as Harry took a seat at the long table again.

"I have no idea where to start," Harry said before laying his head on his folded arms.

The professor cleared his throat a few times before speaking. "I know you read those books I gave you, but how much detail did they go into?"

Harry raised his head. "About seduction? Nothing like that. I guess they assumed anyone interesting in bonding would be attracted already."

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "One thing the bond requires is contact." Harry opened his mouth, but Severus waved him into silence. "No. Not necessarily sexual , though that will be needed soon, but right now basic physical touch, holding hands or any sort of skin on skin contact would be enough to prolong Draco's life. As long as his body believes that the bond is real, he will be well. It is a delaying tactic, but it will give you an excuse to spend time with him."

"If he'll have me," Harry said, snorting.

"He is a practical boy, as I said. He is in shock, but now that he has a chance to live he will take it. Go spend time with him. You may win him yet."

Harry looked up at the man. Snape's last words were almost romantic. A faint pink flush brightened the sallow cheeks and Severus was determinedly looking away from Harry. Harry smiled and stood, feeling a bit more confident than he had the first time he left the room. "Okay. I can do this. Holds hands, kiss. We were doing that before he found out so I can definitely do this, maybe get even further."

The pink blush now faded into a nauseous green. "I do not need details, Potter. Please."

Harry grinned at the professor's discomfiture before hopping down off of the stool and heading to the door, and he didn't turn back around.

He thought about it. But he didn't do it.

The infirmary was quiet and empty, even Pomphrey was elsewhere. It was only the first night back, but Harry expected in a few days time the place would be bustling with activity again as all of the things that could go wrong at a magical school would.

Draco was in his customary bed lying facing away and Harry felt a pang in his chest as he approached him. The last time he had seen the blond in this bed Draco was near-death from the curse.

Right now he seemed to be just near-tantrum, turning sharply when Harry accidentally kicked a rubbish bin on the floor and sending it screeching into the wall.

"I told you Pansy, you didn't need to come back. I am fine now leave me alo--"

The blond stopped short when he saw Harry. Their eyes met for long and silent moments until Draco broke the tension by yawning, sinking back into the pillows.

Harry took the opportunity to take a seat on the empty chair next to the bed and grab the hand the Slytherin wasn't using to cover his mouth.

The yawn done, Draco lowered his other hand and looked at Harry, then at the mattress, where their joined hands rested. "What are you doing, Potter? I'm pretty sure I gave you the impression I never wanted to see you again."

"You did," Harry said. "I guess I'm just bad at impressions."

Harry bit his tongue as soon as he was finished speaking. What did that even mean? Silently chastising himself for not rehearsing a thoroughly romantic and suave line on the walk up to the infirmary, he was broken out of his thoughts when Draco tugged sharply on his hand.

"Let me go, for Merlin's sake. I know we're married," this the blond said with a sneer, "But there's no reason to carry on like this."

Harry tightened his grip until the blond relaxed and accepted that Harry wouldn't let go. "Carry on like what?"

"Like you care, Potter." Draco's voice was low and tired and as his eyes slipped closed Harry took a moment to really study the boy for the first time since he entered the infirmary.

"Merlin, you look bad." Again he cursed his words as Draco's eyes snapped open and the blond raised his free hand in a fist. "I mean, not that you look bad, you look wonderful, but you look tired. And sick." Harry's voice trailed off on that last as Draco dropped his hand to the bed again.

"I am sick," the blond said tiredly. "I'm dizzy and I can't eat and I sleep all of the time. If I didn't know better I'd say the curse came back."

Harry looked away.

"It didn't come back, right? That farce of a marriage was supposed to get rid of it, wasn't it?"

Harry steeled himself and turned to Draco, letting go of his hand. The blond looked a little better than he had at first and Harry wasn't sure he could say what he had to say if they were still holding hands. "It's not complete, the bond. We need skin to skin contact."

Draco looked down to his now empty hand lying on the mattress, and then up to Harry. "So. You were holding my hand. Skin to skin."

Harry felt the heat of a blush run up his cheeks. "I'm afraid that's only a stop-gap measure. Eventually we will have to--"

"Have to what?"

Harry opened and closed his mouth a few times before just giving in and making a few rough hand gestures.

The blond seemed to get the idea as his face turned a vivid rose pink. He began to giggle and couldn't seem to stop. The laughter took on a hysterical sobbing edge and Harry saw tears in the depths of his grey eyes. When he calmed down, Draco wiped his eyes with the edge of the blanket. "I-- I-- Okay. Potter," Draco said, looking at the blanket that had been tucked up around his chest, "I really need you to go now."

Harry opened his mouth to say something but Draco just shook his head. "No, I really need you to go now. I need to think."

Harry nodded and took Draco's hand again, pressing a kiss to the soft skin before standing and leaving the room.

"Harry?"

Harry was at the door when he heard Draco. He stopped, but didn't turn around, he knew the blond needed time to think.

"Come back tomorrow? To hold my hand?"

That last was mumbled and Harry nodded, walking out of the Infirmary and closing the door behind him.

Harry walked back to Gryffindor tower in a daze. Draco hadn't said no. He hadn't said yes either, but the main thing, the important thing, was that he didn't say no.

And he wanted Harry to come back.

He braced himself before whispering the password to the Gryffindor dorms to the Fat Lady. As the portal opened he was surprised to see that instead of the crowd of curious students he expected only Ron and Hermione sat waiting on the big couch.

He groaned quietly when the two of them looked away from their conversation and saw him. Ron opened his mouth but before he could say anything Hermione jumped in. "Harry what is going on? Is there something wrong? What happened?"

Harry nodded slowly, his body feeling heavy and awkward as the adrenaline and emotion of the evening started to fade. "It's Draco. Over the summer he-- We--" Then something struck him and he looked up from the carpet to eye his best friends. "Weren't you two going to visit me this summer?"

Hermione blushed and looked away. Ron blushed as well, but sat up a little straighter and took the girl's hand in his. "We were planning to, mate, but things happened."

Harry grinned and leaned back, letting his weight sink into the comfortably over-stuffed chair. "Things happened for me too."

He winked at his friends and waited for them to pick up the clue.

Ron looked confused, but Hermione's perplexed brow cleared quickly as her blush brightened into a bright red hue. The red head looked at his now-girlfriend, then over at Harry, who was doing his best to hold back giggles.

"You? Something happe- But you were only here with Neville and he was a little boy, and the Ferret, and the professo-- Merlin, Harry! It wasn't Snape, was it?"

At the look of horror on his best friend's face Harry couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. He fair howled with it, leaning forward and bracing his hands on his knees. After a few minutes the laughter tapered off and Harry leaned back again, panting softly.

He looked up to see his friends staring at him in open-mouthed shock and broke into giggles again. When he caught his breath he sputtered out, "No. No, not Snape. How can you even think that? No," he said, now feeling the heat of a light blush run up his own cheeks. "It was Draco."

Hermione's mouth fell open further as Ron leaned forward. "The Ferre-"

Harry raised his hand and cut him off. "No, Ron. You can't call him that. I love him and I'm… I'm bonded to him. He deserves more respect than that."

Ron sat back hard, his breath rushing out of him in a loud 'huff.' The three of them sat in silence as Harry waited to see how his friends would really react.

Eventually Ron leaned forward and said, "Fine… Drac--" He broke off, then tried again. "Dra--" Again he stopped. "Sorry mate, can't do it. Can I just call him Malfoy?"

Harry grinned. Ron looked confused, but there was no anger there. "I'm afraid you'll have to call him Potter," Harry replied. Then he though about it for a moment. "Or you have to call me Malfoy. We haven't really discussed it yet. I suppose we could do a hyphenate…"

His voice trailed off as he thought about it further. A hyphenate would probably be the fairest way, if Draco wanted to keep the Malfoy name at all, if the blond was allowed to use it anymore. He would have to look into that.

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by just over seven stone of bushy-haired brunette crashing into his lap. The force of Hermione's weight drove him into the back of his chair and he gasped for the breath that had been driven out of his lungs.

"Hermione? What's going on," Ron asked, pulling the girl away.

Harry took the chance and caught his breath before looking over at the couple, now sitting on the couch again. Ron shook his head, neither boy had any idea what was going on.

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," Hermione said.

Harry felt a chill down his spine when he heard that. "Sorry for what? What did you do?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's all my fault. That you got stuck in a group together, that all of this started. I suggested you and Malfoy and Neville for a team," the girl said through soft sobs. "I thought it would be for the best all around. You and Malfoy could get over your petty rivalry and Malfoy could help Neville in potions and I didn't think Snape would listen to me and now you're stuck in a bond with that--" She paused, breathing heavily. "That Slytherin."

Hermione lunged forward again. Harry flinched back again, holding his breath, but she landed on the floor in front of him, on her knees. Grabbing his hands in hers, Hermione looked up and met Harry's eyes, that familiar glint of determination burning again. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll find a way to get you out of this. I don't know what the Ferret did to force you into bonding with him, but I will fix it."

Harry's mouth dropped open and he threw Hermione's hands way from his as if they burned. "He didn't force me into anything, and this isn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault, it just happened, and I'm glad it did because I got to know Draco and I love him, and I got to know Neville and he's like a little brother to me." Without realizing it, Harry rose to his feet and Hermione and Ron stood as well. Now the green-eyed boy as shouting, but he couldn't stop. "I can't believe you would act like this. You have no idea how I feel about the situation and you automatically blamed Draco?"

Hermione sighed. "Look Harry, you don't understand."

Harry sank back into his chair and let her lecture run over his head. He picked up a few words here and there like 'responsibility' and 'culpability' but he wasn't really paying attention. Eventually Hermione would run out of steam and then they could really talk. Meanwhile Harry saw that Ron had regained his seat as well and the two boys shared a commiserating look.

"Are you listening to me, Harry?"

"Should he be, Hermione?"

All three students turned to see Neville standing at the foot of the stairs. As they watched he walked towards them until he was standing only a few feet away by the arm of the couch. Tears painted a shining trail down his cheeks and Harry felt the urge to go over to the boy and comfort him again as he had when Neville was a child, but before he had the chance Neville spoke again.

"If you want to blame someone for everything that happened this summer, you have to blame me. It's my fault."

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**Note: **Dun-dun-DUNNNNN. Okay, I have to admit Neville surprised me too. In the next chapter we will expand on that a little bit and if the smutty muses move me we might get into a little heavy petting with our erstwhile lovers.

Two points for the usage of 'erstwhile,' right?

Okay, review and tell me how much you love/hate it. You may also lambaste me for the delay in updating if you so choose. I can't promise the next chapter will be out any sooner as I haven't started writing it yet.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world or all anything.

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**CHAPTER 25**

"What--"

"It's not--"

Harry and Hermione spoke at the same time, but before Harry had the chance to finish his sentence the bushy-haired girl was off and running. "It's not your fault Neville. That potion is notoriously unstable. Quite frankly I was shocked that Professor Snape assigned it at all---"

She kept speaking and Harry barely stopped himself from shooting Neville a commiserating glance because the boy looked so upset. When Hermione stopped for a breath, Harry jumped in.

"What's going on, Neville? Why do you think it's your fault?"

The brunet boy shuddered and Harry couldn't stop himself. He stood up and took off his robe, wrapping it around Neville's shoulders as he nudged the boy into one of the empty chairs. Harry gave Hermione and Ron a look, and like true best friends they knew what he was saying and left, mumbling quiet farewells.

Once the common room was empty of everyone but Harry and Neville all Harry could hear were the other boy's heavy breaths.

"What is it Neville?"

Neville took one last shuddering sigh before beginning to speak, his gaze focused on his hands, folded in his lap.

"When I was six years old I was incorrigible and my grandmother brought me in to Hogwarts to see if there was something the matter. She brought me into the Infirmary and I fell asleep on one of the cots, waiting for Madame Pomphrey."

"Yeah, your Gran told us," Harry said softly.

Neville shook his head. "No, you don't understand. While I was asleep I had a dream. It felt so real. There were two boys who took care of me and we watched telly and went flying and it was amazing."

This time it was Harry's turn to shake his head. "I'm sorry, Nevs. I just don't follow."

Neville turned and Harry felt the full power in the other boy's damp brown eyes. "The little boy you took care of wasn't me, not the grown up me shrunken to six years old. It was me then. I don't know how it happened, but it did."

"But Neville, you didn't say anything—"

Neville laughed a harsh, tear dampened laugh. "How was I supposed to tell you? Oh, by the way Harry, I know you don't know anything about the Wizarding World, but in five years you're going to be my dad?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but before he had the chance Neville spoke again.

"No. I thought it was a dream, at first. But when I got a little older I saw a picture of Draco in the Daily Prophet and it struck a chord. I knew him. The next time I went to Diagon Alley he was there and I was so excited to see him I ran up to him and gave him a massive hug."

Neville smiled, but the smile was soft and sad and twisted. Harry felt his stomach sink. He remembered what Draco had been like when they first met and couldn't imagine the Slytherin any nicer as a child. "What did he do? Did he hurt you?"

Neville started, leaning away sharply. "No," Neville said quickly, almost shouting in the heavy silence of the empty Common Room. "No, he smiled. He looked confused but he smiled. But before I had the chance to say anything to him, to tell him I was glad he felt better, his— His father stepped in. He pushed me aside with that snake-head cane of his and told Draco not to bother with useless squibs like me."

Tears were falling down Neville's cheeks and Harry pulled the other boy close, pressing his damp face into his own flannel-clad shoulder. After a few moments Neville pulled away. After taking a few deep breaths the boy went on. "He just went along with it, Draco didn't say anything. I suppose I understand now, Lucius is a bastard, but then… It broke my heart Harry."

Harry nodded in agreement with the other boy's sorrowful tone.

"After that I saw him a few times but I didn't say anything. I told myself my dream was just that, just a dream. And when we got to Hogwarts and I saw you, both of you again, I kept my mouth shut, pretending I didn't know who either of you were, pretending nothing had happened. I could have left it like that, a nice dream, my imaginary family, if it hadn't been for one thing."

"What's that Nev ?"

The brunet smiled. "Draco told me something, when I took the potion, before I went back to the past. Did you hear him?"

Harry shook his head. Neville had gone back to staring at his hands and Harry wasn't sure if the other boy had seen, but Neville went on anyway.

"He told me… He told me he was sorry, for the flying lesson and my Remember-All. he said he was a child and a fool and he was sorry."

Harry gasped and Neville's soft smile widened into a grin.

"I didn't know what he meant, but then Madame Hooch took us out for our first lesson and he stole my Remember-All, and everything came back to me. You left right after the lesson, so you don't know this, but that day I went back to our room and shut myself up in my bed for the rest of the day. I'm sure everyone thought I was pouting over what Draco did, but I was thinking. I dredged up every memory of our time together when I was a kid, and compared them to everything now and I knew it was real, it had to be real. It just wasn't time yet."

Harry sat back, sinking into the heavy plush of the couch. His head was spinning. If it was all true, and Neville was a child, then…

"You knew he was dying?"

Neville froze. "I knew he would get sick."

"And that we would never be able to rescue Narcissa? Why didn't you--? We could have saved her, saved him…"

"I-- I couldn't, Harry. The repercussions—"

"Repercussions hell, Neville. He could have died, could still die, and you should have said something." Too tense to remain sitting, Harry stood up quickly and started pacing the room. It was too much, the idea that this had happened, that Neville had known him for years before they met, and known him well. He heard Neville crying, but he couldn't stop pacing, it was as if he were a clock work boy, forced to march until he wound down.

Again and again he circled the room, the couches and the fireplace and the thick tapestries that lined the walls becoming nothing more than a blurry background as his head rang with Neville's soft sobs and memories of their few months as a little family.

Finally Harry couldn't walk anymore and he collapsed to the ground, his legs trembling

underneath him.

Exhausted, Harry muttered. "Why Neville? Why did you let it happen? Why did you let me love him?"

Neville's voice was rough with tears as he answered. "I didn't 'let' you, Harry. I didn't force you either. You already cared about him or none of this could have happened in the first place, and he already loved you. I couldn't save Narcissa this time, couldn't prevent her death now because I didn't then.

If I told you at the end of the year that you would fall in love with Draco Malfoy, and by the way make sure his mum doesn't die or you'll have to get married, what would you have said?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again. There was nothing he could say.

"Exactly. You would never have believed me. I know you always considered yourself my friend Harry, but we never had that kind of relationship, the kind where you would automatically trust whatever I said no matter how ludicrous it was. Hell, even if Ron or Hermione told you what would happen you would never believe them.

Things unfold the way they are meant to. As far as I was concerned all of this was history, memory. It had already happened and so it was meant to occur."

Harry leaned back against a chair nearby and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Neville. I can't discuss this with you right now."

When he opened his eyes again the brunet was gone.

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**Note: **Okay, this chapter did not go where I thought it would go. I was going to have another long scene, but my beta, DerSaboteur, thought this was a good place to stop. So if you don't like it I can provide a detailed map for the ravening mob. No, seriously. I know what the next chapter will be and I should have it up in a much shorter time than it took to get this one posted.

Read, review, tell me what you think. If you do not review I shall meet you on the field of honor at dawn. Well, maybe more around 10. I'm sluggish in the morning.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world. And considering my shameful neglect of this story over the past …. Well, it's probably for the best.

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**CHAPTER 26**

Harry sat in a daze for hours, what-ifs and riddles racing through his head. If Neville knew, he should have said something. But would Harry have believed him? And if he did what difference would it have made? They could have left to get Narcissa sooner, but she made up her mind to save Draco at the last moment, fear of a traitor's death holding her back until finally it was too late. Would she have changed her mind sooner? Was there any way they could have convinced her to come, knowing what the delay could mean?

And with that what did the delay mean? Harry couldn't blame Narcissa's death for his marriage to Draco, if blame was even the right word. Here, in the common room, with his head and stomach spinning, the one thing Harry knew was that he loved the blond boy, that he wanted to marry him, be bound to him, and that those feelings were real before they even had a chance to get Narcissa in. So even if they had saved the older woman, there was no guarantee Harry wouldn't have married Draco anyway.

And if Neville had known, had told them what would have happened, then would that have changed events? Would that even have been possible? Because if Neville remembered everything in a dream he had when he was six, and Harry had changed events, then how could Neville have dreamed it? How would Harry have been able to change anything if it had already happened?

Harry slumped, burying his face in his hands. His thoughts were whirling, chasing after each other madly, and it was giving him a head ache. Rubbing his temples with the heel of his palms, Harry took a few deep breaths and tried to clear his mind. There was too much to think about now, and he had no idea how he would be able to digest it all. He was physically and emotionally exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep so he got up and headed towards the portrait hole. Maybe a walk around the castle would calm him down.

Harry's feet traced the familiar stones and before he knew where he was going he was back in front of the infirmary. It was dark inside, small candles at the door providing little light, but Harry knew the path to Draco's bed very well by now. He walked over as quietly as he could, then sank in the chair next to the bed.

Pale moonlight trickled through a high window and shone off of Draco's hair, his face, highlighting the white blond lashes that rested against his cheeks as the blond slept peacefully. Harry tried to sync his breathing with that of the other boy's, letting the slow and steady rhythm lull him into a light doze.

Harry was woken from his near-reverie as Draco shifted, the sheets rustling as the blond moved. Harry looked up to see the blond staring at him.

"You know, if I'm going to go to the effort to pretend sleep, the least you could do is say something interesting."

Harry smiled slowly, echoing the blonds expression. "Like what?"

Draco shifted, pulling himself up into a reclining position of the blankets. "Well, you could confess your undying love for starters. Maybe a declaration of everlasting fidelity would work." Draco moved to the side an patted the mattress next to him. "Get over here. I don't feel like shouting across the infirmary in the middle of the night. It's gauche."

Harry smiled and got up, slipping between the cool sheets and into a body-warmed depression in the mattress. The mattress was spacious enough for one person, but with two in the bed Harry and Draco were pressed together in the middle. After a few minutes of awkward shifting, Draco lifted Harry's arms around his shoulders and settled down, leaning back against the other boy's chest. Harry let his chin rest on top of Draco's head and took a deep breath.

They lay there in silence before Draco began shifting again, pulling away. Harry tried to move, to make the blond more comfortable, but Draco planted a hand on his chest and held him in place. The blond was still too pale and Harry knew he could get away from Draco's hold if he had to, but he wanted to see what the blond was after.

After a bit more shifting, Draco was sitting up again, his legs curled under him as he looked into Harry's eyes.

It was a nice moment, an intimate moment…

That was completely broken as Draco snapped his fingers in front of Harry's eyes.

"All right dreamer, what's going on?"

Harry shook off the glaze of exhaustion that was creeping over him. "What?"

Draco leaned in and pressed his fingers to Harry's cheek. "You look dead tired and upset. I can tell from this wrinkle, right here," he said as cool fingertips traced up the side of Harry's face and Draco's thumb caressed the bit of skin between his eyebrows.

Harry brushed Draco's hand away, but kept hold of his fingers. "It's nothing. Can we sleep? I need to sleep."

"I can tell," Draco replied, "The bags under your eyes have officially become luggage. But I think you need to talk more than you need to sleep."

Harry sighed and let go of Draco's hand, turning away until he was laying on his side and facing the wall. He felt Draco lie down again, and move closer until the warmth of his body was pressed along Harry's back. A slender arm crept over his side and another wriggled under his head until Harry felt wrapped up, surrounded by the blond.

"Tell me. If what I've been told is true and we're married we should share things. And I think you'll feel better if you talk it out."

Draco's voice was low and cajoling, but Harry couldn't listen, didn't want to talk. He wanted to sleep.

Draco's fingers traced abstract swirls over Harry's stomach. "Come on. We're alone in here, in the dark. You can say whatever you like here and no one but me and the moon will hear you."

Harry nodded and shifted, getting out of the bed and moving back to his chair. He turned to face Draco, who had been watching his progress with careful eyes.

"Okay, you want to know?"

Draco nodded, his eyes blank and calm.

"Neville did it."

Draco opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Harry went on. "He knew. The Neville that we knew, that we took care of, wasn't the teenager Neville, it was the little boy. When we gave him the potion to return him to his true age he went back to then, to when he was six."

"But--"

"He never said anything. He let it all play out, let your mother die, let you almost die just so everything could happen again the way it already had."

Harry stopped sharply, gasping for breath, and found himself standing and the wall of the infirmary ringing with his raised voice. He rubbed his eyes wearily and sank back into the chair.

All of this time Draco was silent, his gaze turned down to the rumpled blankets on his lap.

Harry sat there in silence, letting the information sink into the cool night air and bracing himself for Draco's reaction, whatever it might be.

Eventually nerves got to him. "Draco? Are you--?"

"No," the Slytherin said, his voice flat and expressionless. "I want to think about this for a while. We can talk about it in the morning."

Harry looked in his eyes, searching for some clue as to how the other boy felt and saw nothing. Torn between reaching out to the blond and pulling away he just sat on the edge of the mattress, twisting the edge of the sheet in his hands.

Time passed, and though it felt like forever it must only have been a few minutes. The candles did not burn down and the moon barely moved across the horizon.

A burden shared is a burden halved and Harry was almost giddy from the weight lifted from his shoulders. Draco would know what to do now. The Sytherin had handled everything that occurred over the summer with a level of maturity Harry could never have expected. He would know how to handle this.

Relieved that the situation was no longer his alone to deal with Harry let himself relax, let his thoughts stop spinning, and as he did his eyes began to droop and he relaxed into the pillows.

As he dozed he felt Draco curl into his side. Warm now and comforted by the presence beside him, Harry drifted into sleep.

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**Note: **I am not completely happy with this chapter but it has been kicking my behind (as you can all tell by how horrifically long it took me to post.) I figured if I sat on it until it was perfect in my eyes I might never get it online. Ideally the next chapter won't take so long. I have an idea of where I'm going, and I think, or rather I hope, that you will be surprised by the turns the next chapter takes. Though I promise that we are approaching the end of the story.

Please review, tell me what you think.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or this world and I make no money from the writing of this story.

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**Chapter 27**

Harry woke up warm, and more comfortable than he had been in a long time. His head ached like he had been crying, but he still felt muzzy and he snuggled closer to the firm warm thing beside him, rolling half on top of it.

A soft chuckle broke through his dozing haze and Harry waved away the tickling fingers that brushed his face.

Then, startled, he twisted away. "Draco? What are you doing here?"

Draco laughed, tugging the sheet wrapped around Harry a bit closer. "I've been here all night, Harry. This is my bed."

Harry looked around, blinking away the last dregs of sleep as he took in everything around him. He was in the Infirmary, sitting on the very edge of Draco's bed. As he noticed exactly how close to the edge he was he scooted in, to get to a more secure position, and not too coincidentally to get a bit closer to his blond husband.

And didn't that sound odd, even in the privacy of his own head.

Still it felt nice to share the heat rising off of the other boy's warm body, surrounding Harry in the soft scent of musk and sandalwood and reminding him of all the nights the two of them had spent together, tucked side by side on their small couch like spoons, their bodies fitting so closely together…

Harry moved a few inches away, getting closer to the edge of the mattress again but not quite ready to stand up and walk to the chair.

He turned to Draco, hoping that the heat elsewhere in his body hadn't spread to his face.

And when he saw the other boy's smirk Harry knew he had failed.

He cleared his throat roughly. It wasn't the first time he'd been aroused in front of Draco. It was the first time since the other boy had found out they were married, but that should only make things more comfortable, right?

Harry tried to stay calm, but when Draco laid a hand on his thigh Harry jumped.

Then Draco leaned in towards him, gray eyes half closed and his lips slightly parted and Harry just sighed, closed his own eyes, and pressed in for the kiss.

It wasn't until their mouths were pressed together and Harry could feel the damp caress of Draco's tongue against his own that he realized how much he wanted this, how much he had missed it in the days when he and Draco were apart.

As he sank into the kiss Harry resolved that he would never give this up. He would do whatever it took to keep Draco at his side, warm and affectionate and loving, and his.

The kiss became more passionate and hands began drifting, over the soft skin of the hip, over the harder flesh of the stomach, the chest, higher and then lower and they were approaching areas that Harry had no experience with but he wanted it. Whatever was coming, wherever they were headed, Harry fell headlong into the impulse. With a surge of strength he lifted Draco from the mattress and brought the blond, his blond, his husband, over his lap so Harry was covered by the other boy's heated flesh.

Draco ground down and their groins were pressed together, they were joined at hip and lip, pelvis and heart, and Harry was flying.

They'd never gone this far before and Harry's senses were filled with Draco. Every panting breath he took was flavored with the other boy's scent. His eyes were focused only on the blush that covered Draco's cheeks, that trailed down his neck and over his chest and wondering how much further it sent, wondering what might be covered by the Infirmary pajamas the other boy was wearing.

Draco shifted and with that tiny moment any thoughts Harry had were completely wiped away. Together the two boys thrust and rocked. Draco murmured Harry's name in a broken voice and Harry shuddered into climax, dragging Draco along with him.

In the aftermath of their passion they lay together on the bed in a sweaty but satisfied pile.

"There are benefits to being married to you," Draco mumbled, and Harry laughed before pressing a kiss to the top of the other boy's head.

Harry heard someone coughing awkwardly a few feet away and he shifted his head up on the pillow so he could see past Draco's hair. He met the gaze of a misty-eyed Madame Pomphrey and a discomfited Severus Snape.

"I hardly think the infirmary is the place for this sort of thing," the potion's professor said, his voice as dry as a desert.

Harry felt the heat of a blush race up his cheeks, but when Draco twisted as if he would move away Harry only tightened his grip on his husband.

Pomphrey slapped Snape's arm. "Now, now, Severus, young love and all that. We'll leave you alone boys, but remember Harry, you have classes to attend and Draco… don't over exert yourself."

With that the other woman flushed and turned away. When it seemed as though Severus would not be leaving with her she tugged sharply at his sleeve, dragging him along. Harry smiled as the older man's mouth twisted in a sardonic smirk.

Once the two adults were gone Draco pulled out of Harry's grip and sat up in the bed. Harry missed the warmth of another body against his own but almost felt relieved as well. They'd never gone as far as this and now that it was over things felt a bit awkward.

Draco fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, not looking Harry in the eye. "What do we do now?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure. I think you have to decide."

Draco looked up then, his eyes flashing with heat. "Oh, I get to decide now? That's a change. Lately all of my decisions have been made for me."

Harry flinched away from the accusation on the blond's face and immediately Draco's eyes softened. "I'm sorry Harry. I've been thinking and I understand why you did what you did. But you have to know that my wishes were different. Maybe if you had asked me we would still be in this position now, married and bonded, but I have no way of knowing."

Each word Draco said made Harry feel worse, for their accuracy and truth. "I'd like to believe we would still be here. Like this. Maybe not in the infirmary though." He smiled weakly at his own lame jest.

Draco shook his head. "But we can't know, can we?"

"Neville did," Harry muttered.

Draco's gaze focused in on Harry and suddenly the Gryffindor felt like he was immersed in ice. "He did know, didn't he? He knew everything all along."

Draco looked away then and even though Harry was relieved to have such cold attention turned away from him, he couldn't help but worry. Draco had his 'scheming face' on which meant something very bad was going to happen.

"You told me last night, didn't you. Neville knew everything this whole time . Knew about the Dark Lord, and the curse. And my mother." Draco's voice broke on the last word and Harry wanted to reach out to him, to comfort him, but the Draco before him was not the one Harry had grown used to. This Draco was not one Harry could reach.

"He knew about all of this. I need to speak with him." Draco's voice was flat, colored only with threatening overtones and Harry looked up to see the other boy start moving towards the edge of the bed, swinging his legs out over the side. Harry rushed to his feet and managed to catch Draco as the Slytherin tried to stand and his legs, weak from illness, collapsed beneath him.

"Draco, sit down, you can't go after him, he-"

"He what, Potter?"

Harry, stung, said, "Potter?"

Draco turned away stiffly but allowed Harry to help him back into the bed. Once he was resting against the pillows again, he turned back. "Potter. Harry. It's your name either way. And this is about Longbottom. All of this is his fault."

Harry shrugged. "He said it had to happen, that it was meant-"

"I don't care. That useless, worthless little squib started all of this and he has to pay."

Harry chuckled, uncomfortable. Surely Draco wasn't serious. "Come on, I admit I'm angry as well, but…"

"But what. I want him brought up on charges. Playing with time is a very dangerous game."

Harry held his hands up, "Wait, wait. Charges? This is a crime? How can it be a crime if he was just making sure that it happened, since it had already happened."

Draco looked at Harry and Harry's breath froze in his throat. In those eyes was every drop of disdain, every drop of bitterness, every trace of the Draco Malfoy that Harry had thought long gone.

"Mark my words, Harry. Longbottom will be punished."

And Harry was afraid.

"You can't do that, Draco. He's family."

"He isn't my family, Harry. In fact he held back vital information that got my mother killed."

"It was meant to happen, it couldn't be prevented-"

"How do you know?"

"It- We didn't know Narcissa would turn until the last minute, Snape was in contact with her, trying to help you. If you'd gone on the way you planned, to die alone here…"

"Then what? My mother would be alive, Potter. Alive and with my father."

"She was a Death Eater, Malfoy. She would have been dead eventually anyway, either at the hands of the Aurors or the Dark Lord's whims."

"Shut up. You don't know that. That squib Longbottom has you all turned around."

"Draco, Draco! Merlin, will you listen to yourself? Only a few weeks ago we were a family, the two of us and Neville, and now?"

Draco pushed Harry's hands away.

"Draco, remember what you said to him before he changed back? The Remember-All? You apologized for that. You cared."

"I remember Harry, and I meant it. I never should have thrown the Remember-All. I should have knocked Longbottom into the sky instead. Maybe then none of this would have happened."

"No. I refuse to believe that. Everything that happened had to happen. And no matter how cold you seemed, how cold you acted, you were never like that, never that cruel. Sharp words, yes, but you couldn't have hurt him. He told me about the first time he met you, really met you, when you both were children. You would have been his friend then, squib or not, Longbottom or not. And it broke his heart when you turned him away, when your father called him worthless. But he never forgot you, that you cared about him, that somewhere under the coldness was a decent, caring human being.

All of this had to happen. As terrible, as painful, as frightening as it was, it had to happen."

Harry stopped, panting harshly, his throat dry and sore as he suddenly realized he had been shouting. In the infirmary, in the middle of the night, he was shouting his defense of Neville Longbottom to a now very smug-looking Draco Malfoy.

"Are you done?" The blond's face was blank, but Harry could hear a smile in his voice.

"What?"

"You did a fine job of defending Neville, Harry, so I suppose I am forced to agree with you. Neville did what he had to do and I shan't be angry with him anymore."

Harry wasn't sure where he stood. He felt like his argument had been pulled out from under his feet. He was angry at Neville, but if he was so angry how could he have defended him?

For the second time in as many days Harry's thoughts were spinning. And he found himself sinking into Draco's embrace wordlessly, resting his head against the Slytherin's chest as they laid back against the pillows and drifting into a grey sleep, soothed by the brush of fingers through his hair.

Before he slipped off into sleep he heard Draco whisper, "Idiot Potter."

(_12345_)

**Note: **All I can do is apologize. I never forgot this story but due to several things going on in real life my stories fell a few notches lower on the priority list. I have said before that I mean to complete all of my stories and I hold to that. I cannot promise they will be completed in a timely manner, but they will be completed.

If you want to review I would appreciate it, but I'm not going to ask.


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